


Star Wars: Nobody Dies: Episode 1: The Antilles Gambit

by Englanderish



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Coming of Age, Drama, Emotional, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Investigations, Old Friends, Romance, Training, Violence, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 00:24:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 78,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5764645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Englanderish/pseuds/Englanderish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the concept of 'NGE - Nobody Dies', but applied to Star Wars. One change, with many, many knock on effects.</p>
<p>Swan. K'Kruhk. Allie. Kolar. Hett. Amersu.<br/>Six Jedi Padawans are caught in a plot to restart a galaxy-wide conflict in a galaxy with a difference. A monumentally critical difference.<br/>Meanwhile, others in the Order face trials of their own as the dark side threatens to claim the galaxy.<br/>The title is a lie. There will be Death. There will be violence. There will be sorrow. There will be humour. There will be WAFF. There will be swearing. There will be Star Wars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ignition

**Prologue **

Every now and then, Jedi Master Zourvux Reivzx was completely and utterly certain of something. In this particular case, it was that this proposed peace treaty was a ploy. She had no idea how or when but she was utterly certain that the betrayal was inevitable. Why would this be the case? Well, simply put, because the Sith Empire had suggested it. The Sith Order didn’t surrender and didn’t sue for peace. It was as illogical as the RRM laundering money from a secret underground lair, or the Jedi having a 'Chamber of Judgement' within which they cast down judgement on those they believed evil.  
  
That would be madness wouldn't it?  
  
As such, she could be easily identified in the meeting room as the one-third-from-the-centre of the Jedi side of the long rectangular table whose eyes were darting around the room, looking for the slightest hint of treachery. The one who looked to be in her early forties with the shortish, shaggy brown hair, skin the colour of sand and Mirialan tattoos forming two horizontal lines under her eyes like warpaint. She wore a long black overdress with the occasional glimpse of red underneath and a rare scowl as she surveyed the assemblage across the table.  
  
Naturally, Darth Bane was in the centre. His recent decision to grow a beard and neatly combed hair was considered by Master Reivzx a blatant attempt to garner public support by looking more cultured and civilised. Behind him stood his apprentice, Darth Zannah. She stared straight ahead and looked much as always – blond, short, pale skinned. To Bane's right sat Lord Githany. A beautiful, raven-haired woman whose slight smile gave the impression that she was struggling to take this seriously – only serving to further fuel Zourvux's suspicion.  
  
To Githany's right was Darth Revan.  
  
Yes, you read that right, Darth Revan – Clad in Revan's iconic robes and red helmet, with a hood for good measure. Answers will come later. Much later.  
  
With that in mind it should be less surprising that on Revan's right was the imposing form of Darth Malak, a frankly ominous looking Rattataki who towered above those on either side of him. To _his_ right was Darth Ruin, a deceptively jovial Umbaran. Then the brooding Pau'an Darth Desolous, the anonymously armoured Darth Jadus and finally the red-headed Darth Terfugious – better known as Belia Darzu - who was, as usual, overladen with weaponry.  
  
On Bane's left was something... decidedly wrong. Looking at it was hard, most found it disturbing and so were drawn to the white mask in the centre,the figure’s only discernible feature... All else was just a dark shape. By all appearances it appeared to be straining against some unseen barrier, as if it wanted nothing more to leap out of the chair. This... thing was named Darth Nihilus.  
  
To Nihilus' right, looking entirely like she wanted to be anywhere but in this very seat was someone unfamiliar to most of the attendants.  
  
Unlike Githany who just didn't bother using it, Trawlar Melar had yet to earn her Darth name, despite having several very noticeable achievements. An imposing woman who, when standing, had to duck under most doorways and packed enough muscle to play Arnold Schwarzenegger's stunt double. What also made her stand out was that she was the only Sith at the table to be of the Sith species as well as the order. The crimson skin and facial lobes of all native Sith, combined with the fact that most people didn't want to look at the _thing_ next to her meant that more than a few heads on Reivzx's side of the table turned her way. Personally, Zourvux was curious as to why Melar was even here.  
  
Darth Occlus occupied the seat to Melar's left, his all-encompassing skull-like helmet providing absolutely no details about the wearer. On Occlus' left was Darth Phobos, a gaunt, pale, Theelin woman. On her left was an unusually unhinged looking Exar Kun – a.k.a. Darth Dominetian – who's brown hair and fair skin both looked rough and dishevelled. There was also a slight twitch to one of his eyes and he was fidgeting heavily, occasionally muttering indistinctly to himself. He looked drastically different to the slick, composed man who had lain siege to Coruscant last year. Finally, to Kun's left, the elusive and very secretive Darth Mutanous sat; the master sorcerer-scientist. Most of her detailed features were obscured by the hood drawn over her head and the cloak wrapped around her body.  
  
Master Yoda, in the centre on Reivzx's side spoke up, “Realise, you do Darth Bane, that difficult to trust this apparent change of heart is? Yes?”  
  
Melar twitched.  
  
“Well,” replied Bane in a deep baritone. “I would hardly call it a change of heart, this war has simply gotten pointless. We've been fighting and killing each other for almost two millennia now with no meaningful progress, I quite understand if you think that we haven't committed quite enough pointless slaughter yet,” He made as if to rise.  
  
“That's not what he said!” snapped Masters Tyvokka and Nu simultaneously (Or, to be more exact, Master Nu snapped whereas Tyvokka, as a Wookiee, just growled his Shyriiwook equivalent). Fortunately Master Windu was able to clarify in his ever calm and reasonable way.  
  
“What Master Yoda said was that we want peace, but only if you give us some reassurance you won't JUST SHOVE IT UP OUR ASS AT THE FIRST OPPORTUNITY!”  
  
Melar twitched again. A small smile formed on Bane's face. “Well then, with such elegant rhetoric I can hardly refuse an open negotiation now.” He settled back into his seat and levelled his gaze piercingly at Yoda, “Let us discus terms, then.” He smiled. Like a tiger.  
  
Several things happened in a blur of motion.  
  
First: Melar leapt from her seat across the table, white-bladed lightsaber igniting in her hand as she almost flew at Yoda.  
  
Second: White met red as Melar's blade was intercepted by that of Master Sharad Hett's, the blue robed Tusken Raider having flung himself from Yoda's immediate left to shield him.  
  
Third: Seemingly out of nowhere, the form of Visas Marr, Nihilus' apprentice joined those on the table; her expression slack and uncaring as she drew clashed her own red lightsaber with Melar's counterattack.  
  
Finally: Belia Darzu's arm swiftly extended like silly-putty, wrapped around Melar's leg and pulled her along the table to the end, away from Yoda.  
  
Silence.  
  
And then every remaining lightsaber in the room ignited, forming a lethal rainbow on each side of the table. Even Master Omo Bouri, despite lacking limbs and bent with old age, levitated his own pink double bladed lightsaber. Even Master T'un, who didn't even use a lightsaber, was standing in a ready stance. All except Bane and Yoda.  
  
“This is my reassurance,” smirked Bane as he reached out a hand in Melar's direction. To her credit she didn't flinch, spitting at him in lieu.   
  
“How? How? HowHowHOWHOW? Can you betray us all like this!? Why are all of you,”- she gestured to the other Sith assembled- “Going along with this shit? Killing the Jedi is all that has ever mattered! Why are you throwing that away?”  
  
Again, silence.  
  
“Practicality.” This time it was Phobos who spoke, gazing coldly at Melar, as she did everyone. Melar never got a chance to reply as she was hoisted up by an unseen force at Bane's command and thrown through the window at the end of the room. She appeared almost comical as she suddenly realised gravity was pulling her very insistently downwards. Then she fell rapidly out of sight down the 500 Republica tower.  
  
A moment passed, none of the lightsabers switched off.  
  
“Those who object to our side of the peace treaty will be dealt with in much the same way,” Bane continued as if an assassination attempt had not just been made by one of his own party. “Now, perhaps we can return to civility and discuss withdrawal arrangements for our respective military campaigns?” The Sith extinguished their lightsabers and returned to their seats or standing positions behind their respective masters. None of the Jedi moved; all remained standing battle ready.  
  
“So... does this mean the truce is off?” Githany cracked an eyebrow, breaking the silence and tenting her hands under her chin, “Because if so I really feel the need – the need to kill something.”  
  
“Githany,” said Bane sternly. “You gave me your word.”  
  
Githany smiled slyly - with teeth, “Don't worry; I'm not starting anything. But seriously, if we're having a fight, please tell me right away. I call the Korun.” Bane shot her a look and she was silent.  
  
“Apologies,” said Bane. “now can we all calm down and talk about this?”  
  
Master Giiett glanced at masters Bouri and Poof. Slowly, cautiously, all three lowered their lightsabers, switched them off and (in the case of Masters Giiett and Poof, as Master Bouri's species wasn't biologically capable of getting up in the first place) took their seats once more. After a moment, Masters Yaddle and Koth followed suit. Then T'un sat down, followed immediately by Tyvokka stowing his yellow blade and sitting. Master Hett got off the table and retook his seat at the same time as Master Nu.  
  
Finally, Masters Piell, Windu and Reivzx were left standing.  
  
“Masters, the rest of the council has voted against you,” Master Bouri croaked in his stuttering guttural drawl, “There is no point making further delay, if you'd be so kind.”  
  
Piell and Windu resumed their seats. Reivzx appeared to be still thinking about it, “Zourvux...” intoned Eeth Koth. Reivzx seemed to snap out of her reverie as, after directing a glare at Mutanous, who simply smiled her mysterious smile, she too sat down.  
  
“Excellent.” Bane smacked his lips and tented his fingers over his chest, “let us get down to business...”  


* * *

  
“I'm thinking of leaving the high council.”  
  
This took Tyvokka rather aback. The Wookiee turned face her.  
  
<You are,?> he growled, <Sore about the treaty?>  
  
“Hardly.” came Zourvux' reply. “I'm on the Council of First Knowledge now, it’s just hard to manage both duties. They're getting in the way too much, one has to go. The children are more important to me.”  
  
<Fair enough,> came the return growl. <Any ideas who'll replace you?>  
  
“No idea. Saesee's not quite experienced enough, Loton will never take it if he's offered it and Halsey has the same problem as me. Probably some young maverick.”  
  
<Like you?>   
  
That got him a snort.  
  
“When have I been a maverick?”  
  
<Malak?>  
  
“Only slightly.”  
  
<You dropped a Star Destroyer on his palace...>  
  
“With help – I was 17! I was young and sprightly...”  
  
All she got was a chuckle at that.  
  
A moment's silence passed as they both stared out at the lights of Coruscant's cityscape from the glass of the moonlit council chamber.  
  
<This planet doesn't have long left, does it?>  
  
“No, it doesn't,” a melancholy smile crept onto Zourvux' face, “Won't be long until everyone has to leave, or be drowned in our own polluted fumes.”  
  
<How long?>  
  
“20 years. Optimistically.”  
  
<And still no leads on somewhere to house the order?>  
  
“Not a one.”  
  
They both continued to stare out at the cityscape in silence.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

A long time ago, in a a galaxy far far away...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
**Star Wars:**  
  
**Nobody Dies:**  
  
**Episode I:**  
  
**The Antilles Gambit**  
  
It is an uncertain time for the  
Galaxy. After almost two  
millennia of constant  
warfare, the SITH EMPIRE  
under DARTH BANE has  
brokered a peace treaty with  
the GALACTIC REPUBLIC and  
their allies THE JEDI ORDER.  
  
Despite initial suspicion of  
their foes, both sides have held  
to the armistice for almost  
seventeen years. More pressingly  
for the Republic and the Jedi,  
their capital planet of Coruscant  
is suffocating under over thirty  
thousand years of air pollution.  
  
With all options exhausted, a  
full evacuation has been  
ordered. Jedi Padawan BULTAR  
SWAN is one of many awaiting the  
final stages of the mass exodus  
when she receives her  
first solo mission...

  
**Chapter I: Ignition **

Space above Coruscant was never silent, the planet below more so. It was not a pretty thing, all lights, metal and fumes. Bultar Swan was not going to miss it. The short, raven-haired Kuati girl of eighteen years sidled lazily along the metal corridor – no wait, she knew this... passageway. Yes, she remembered now: there are no corridors on a ship, only passageways. Strictly speaking, this was a space station but as far as Bultar was concerned they were all the same. At the moment she busied herself with preparations for take off, the usual: stow loose objects, make sure ones own belongings were in ones own cabin and trying _not_ to think about the howling emptiness that would soon be beneath her. Another rumble and a clang, louder than most, as the station detached from it's mooring and Bultar leant on the bulkhead until the nausea passed. There were now hovering in the dock. Soon they would ascend from ground level, out of the atmosphere in search of a new home. Bultar _really_ hoped that didn't take long. The very thought of living in this station for years on end was... not appealing.  
  
_“Attention Younglings. Attention Padawans. Attention Apprentices. Attention Masters. The Ouran is now untethered. I repeat, The Ouran is now untethered. Lift-off will occur in fifteen minutes. Please return to your cabins and secure any loose items. When you have finished please proceed to the rotunda.”_  
  
The ever-reassuring, ever-South-Mirialan voice of Master Reivzx sounded over the PA. After a moment she began to repeat the message until she suddenly cut across herself: _“By 'secure all loose articles' I do not mean 'Toss them on your bed'...”_ there was a pause, _“yes, you, Sian...” a_ nother pause, _“Because your door is wide open, I can see your cabin across the hall.”_  
  
Bultar tuned out the remainder of the unusual argument and ambled along the final few meters to the laundry collection room and scanned the drawstring bags for her name.  
  
“Here,” came a gruff voice from behind her accompanied by just such a bag dropped into her arms, causing her heart rate to shoot off the scale.  
  
“K'Kruhk! Never do that again!” Bultar rounded on the Whiphid - which would normally seem like an extremely brave thing to do, (what with the tusks and all) unless you remembered that K'Kruhk was a total teddy bear. His impressive size and shaggy, brown fur filled more or less the entire doorway. Never one to do things by halves, his full set of grey robes was topped off with a long brown cloak - not something most padawans bothered with unless on a mission.  
  
K'Kruhk held his hands up in apology, “Sorry, forgot you hate space-”  
  
“I. Don't. Hate. Space. Travel,” came her interjection through gritted teeth.  
  
“ _Right_ , and I'm not obsessed with water. Anyway, thought I'd bring you your laundry when I was getting mine, but you weren't in your room,”  
  
“Thanks, I guess. Just _please_ don't sneak up on me again.”  
  
“I'll try not to,” came the reply with a winning smile. (Whiphid smiles look... _odd_ ) “Anyway I'm all shut and battened down; y'mind if I come with or you still got more to do?”  
  
Bultar shrugged, “I'm pretty much done - just gotta put these away.”  
  
They went back down the passageway to Bultar's cabin where she stowed her bag, K'Kruhk making sure to stomp heavily so as not to 'surprise' Bultar again. On their way to the Rotunda they were confronted by a decidedly miffed Master Che. The Twi'Lek Chief Healer told K'Kruhk in no uncertain terms that he was rocking the ship and if he 'didn't stop his incessant pounding there would be _unpleasant consequences'_. A rather sheepish K'Kruhk profusely apologised and the two continued further on as Master Che called after them.   
  
“The Ouran does most certainly not need almost a _ton_ of adolescent Whiphid thumping up and down thank you very much.”  
  
“That was your fault,” he muttered to Bultar, who chuckled, then immediately realised by his sudden grin what he was really after.  
  
“Dammit, you knew that would cheer me up didn't you!”  
  
“... Maybe,” Bultar's only response was to sulk but her heart wasn't honestly in it. K'Kruhk was hard to stay angry at. He was also annoyingly good at reading her.

* * *

  
“Sian, if I have to, I _WILL_ come in there and monitor you. I've got time, but I'm betting you don't want to have to explain to everyone why you held us all up... Yeah. That's what I thought,” With her victory secured, Zourvux shut the door to the Instructors' quarters with a thud before marching back to the armchairs where three other Masters sat. Master Tera Sinube, a hunch-backed cosian with white hair, was getting very old indeed now. Master Kossex was a Weequay and as such looked about as old as Tera despite being less than half his age thanks to her heavily wrinkled skin. Master Sora Bulq, also a Weequay, looked somewhat more graceful than Kossex, his beady eyes peering out from his face merrily.  
  
“We really need to find her a master,” sighed Tera as he stretched like an aged nexu after a hard night's hunt, leaning back in the armchair opposite Zourvux.  
  
“K'Kruhk would probably work well with her...” Kossex supplied from the window seat with her gruff, croaky voice.  
  
“Needs to finish his own apprenticeship first,” said Bulq in his trademark soft, gentle whisper, “I think you're getting a little ahead of yourself there.”  
  
“Come on Sora, we both know Lilit is more or less done with him,” put in Zourvux with a knowing grin, “He's got, what? One more trial to pass?”  
  
“True but it's never too late to fail, or succeed for that matter,” Sora smiled back before continuing, “In any case whether or not K'Kruhk will take a padawan, much less Youngling Jeisel is out of our hands. I suggest keeping our focus on the evacuation for now,”  
  
“Good point,” said Tera, as made to get up.  
  
“No, Tera, I think you've worked yourself enough today - have a rest,” insisted Sora.  
  
“Why, I'm not dead yet! I just move a little slower,” the Cosian retorted jokingly.  
  
“Because, my equine friend, contrary to your belief there _is_ such a thing as overexertion.”  
  
“Oh fine, fine,” Tera relented and slumped back in his seat. In less than three seconds his eyes had closed and he had drifted off to a contented looking slumber. With a small smile Sora rose, strode over to the PA and held the button.  
  
“Attention. Could R3-K9, I repeat R3-K9, report to his mistress in the Instructors' quarters. Thank you.”  
  
“You know something, you should do all the PA announcements, your voice is so meditative. Well I'm off to help Vokara, she's inventorying our supplies,” With this, Kossex stood up and headed for the door.  
  
“Don't be late to the rotunda,” warned Zourvux.  
  
“Oh don't worry, you'll see my ugly mug there in five,” and with that, she left.  
  
A minute or two later, the door opened again to admit a silver astromech droid with a red sensor and a clear dome with silver panelling.  
  
“Oh - K9, good. Would you mind doing a final check on all cabins before we take off?” asked Zourvux from her chair, receiving a string of beeps as a reply, “Well, if anyone's lagging behind give them - oh, I don't know, a zap or something.” she responded.  
  
More beeping, longer this time.  
  
“No, not _literally_ \- just ask them to hurry up.”  
  
After a much shorter round of beeping from the droid, he left.  
  
“Still can't get him to understand sarcasm?” asked Sora.  
  
“You have no idea,” she replied darkly.“Well, we'd best get going – it'd be rather embarrassing If _we_ were late.” With that, they both rose and left.

* * *

  
Bultar wasn't quite sure what happened.   
  
One moment she was pretty sure she and K'Kruhk had been going... somewhere, next: dizzy, blurry, silence and a dull ache in her head. Her vision swam as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing.  
  
Indistinct colours, shapes.  
  
Slowly it got a little clearer, less blurry. She could make out... a face? Yes, she decided, a face. Dark skin, human _ish_ maybe. The face got clearer, slowly. Painstakingly, ever so slowly.   
  
Human; there was a headdress, a familiar headdress.   
  
Tholothian.  
  
Zaori? Aishintu?  
  
Yes, Aishintu.  
  
Young, old, or in the middle?  
  
Young.  
  
About her age by the looks of it  
  
She could make out the eyes now... Violet eyes.  
  
Suddenly it clicked.  
  
“DAMN IT STASS!”  
  
Her vision came rushing back to normal, along with her hearing and higher brain functions. Then the pain got worse.  
  
The face belonged to Stass Allie, of course.  
  
“Would it kill you not to run everywhere?” Bultar moaned, clutching her head.  
  
“I didn't wanna be late,” Stass said, biting her lip and picking herself up off Bultar, “Sorry.”  
  
“Yeah well, now we'll be on time but in pain.”  
  
“Well look on the bright side, 'least you're still conscious... Sorry,” Stass said again. K'Kruhk shook his head and hoisted Bultar off the floor.  
  
“Lets just keep going; Stass, could you do some of your healing on the way?” he said as he moved off down the passageway now supporting Bultar.  
  
“Sure, okay Bultar, just hold still... and keep walking...”   
  
For someone who had just caused her friend bodily harm, Stass was being a little too upbeat as far as Bultar was concerned – or maybe that was just the pain talking.  
  
“Do I have a choice?” she managed to groan out.  
  
“Um... no?” Stass said as she laid her hands on either side of Bultar's head with a look of concentration.  
  
A moment later her hands glowed faintly and the pain began to ebb a little before suddenly vanishing.  
  
“Aah, yeah. Much better... Still dizzy though.”  
  
“Sorry,” again.  
  
'Well at least you _look_ sorry,' Bultar thought, her annoyance diminished.  
  
Within the minute she was able to walk without relying on the galaxy's hairiest crutch and by the time they arrived at the rotunda her injury had ceased to exist. The rotunda itself was an extremely large but well-lit room in the centre of the Ouran's top deck, with seating in levels around the entire edge with more in the middle and a stage in the centre. The ceiling was a domed skylight that allowed a view of two of Coruscant's four moons hanging in the evening sky. Its normal use would be for presentations and demonstrations but right now it was an excellent congregation point to account for everyone. Most of the room was already filled with just under a thousand people. K'Kruhk suddenly snorted.  
  
“What's so funny?” asked Stass.  
  
“Just thought of how beside herself Master Mahn will be over making sure we don't leave someone behind.”  
  
Stass giggled at that, “oh, good _lord_ she really does care too much sometimes.”  
  
She suddenly stopped and assumed a very straight face. K'Kruhk looked ahead and also stopped. Bultar followed their gaze and saw Master Hanta, clad all in his usual black, glaring at them. Apparently he was directing people coming in through this entrance and from the look on his face Bultar was almost certain he'd heard Stass. They all waited with bated breath.  
  
“Second to top row. Find your masters. They're already waiting for you.”  
  
Hardly daring to believe their luck they walked as fast as possible around the edge to the steps and began to climb. When she was certain Hanta was out of earshot Bultar released a breath she hadn't even realised she was holding.  
  
“How did we get away with that?”  
  
“That was the longest three seconds of my life,” came K'Kruhk's reply. Stass, on the other hand was in denial as they reached their row.  
  
“That was too close, we almost pissed off the Dark Master. _No one_ fucks with the Dark Master. How did that just happen?”  
  
“My advice,” came a dry, suave voice from just ahead, “don't let him catch you calling him that. You pushed your luck as it is.”   
  
The voice in question belonged to a Tusken Raider and fellow apprentice by the name of A'Sharad Hett. Like all Tusken Raiders, A'Sharad was clad from head to toe in traditional Tusken coverings, with beige robes over the top. None of them had ever seen what lay beneath.  
  
“What did you do anyway?” He asked as they sat down just past him, “Why'd he hold you up?”  
  
“We may have made a joke about Master Mahn,” said K'Kruhk. A'Sharad stared at them. “To his face?”  
  
“We didn't know he was there,” added Stass.  
  
On A'Sharad's other side, Xiaan Amersu (who was most certainly not listening in) buried her face in her hands. Xiaan was a Twi'Lek, tall for her age and had skin a light beige colour. She also had the laziest version of Jedi robes of the bunch - tunic, undershirt, trousers, boots, all brown.  
  
“You know considering that you're all a year or two _older_ than us, I would have thought you'd pay more attention.”  
  
The discussion probably would have gone on longer if not for their masters in the row behind beginning to take interest.  
  
“Bultar, what did you do?” came Micah Giiett's accusatory tone. He was a short, olive-skinned human. His short hair had bald vertical lines buzzed from each temple.  
  
“Nothing Master,” she quickly said and even more quickly changed the subject. Giving A'Sharad a good kick when he didn't initially get it.  
  
“So _A'Sharad_ , I don't think you ever told me how come your name is almost the same as your dad's.”  
  
“Oh, uh yeah. Well you see, after he left the order...”  
  
“It's so fun when they think we're not paying attention.” Micah put his arms behind his head and leaned back.  
  
“Yeah, I mean sometimes it seems like Stass doesn't realise I have the capability of _hearing_ ” replied Knight Coleman Kcaj in his decidedly northern voice that made him sound much older than he was. Coleman is an Ongree. I haven't the faintest idea how to describe Ongree.  
  
“Hehehe, suckers. K'Kruhk hardly ever gives me this kinda trouble,” said Master Lilit Twoseas, a blonde human, who was sitting between them, “How's your apprentice getting on anyway; I hardly see you anymore.”  
  
“Doing well,” answered Coleman, his voice dropping to a low tone, “Still some kinks to iron out though.”  
  
“Like what?” asked Micah, his voice matching Coleman's.  
  
“That's between her, me, Agen and Adi.”  
  
Stass twitched.  
  
“Ah, okay then,” said Micah before directing his next question to Lilit. “Any thoughts on K'Kruhk's final trial?”  
  
“A few ideas, but nothing ferrocrete yet,” came her quiet reply.  
  
“Which trial is it?” asked Coleman.  
  
“Flesh,” replied Lilit dispassionately. Micah sat up with interest while Coleman grimaced. The grimace of an Ongree is an extremely bizarre thing to witness.  
  
“That's the only one Stass has passed so far. Could have been uglier, but it was still hard on her,” he replied.  
  
“They're never pleasant affairs; took me until my fourth apprentice to learn that,” added Micah, “though personally I think you should never leave them till last.”  
  
“I really shouldn't have put it off this long, I know,” she replied.  
  
“The Trial of the Flesh or getting a better haircut?” smirked Knight J'Mikel. The stooping Anx with an rather impressive crest settled into the space on Micah's right.  
  
“There is _nothing_ wrong with my hair,” retorted Lilit icily, “and where have you been anyway- Apprentice Amersu was here ages ago.”  
  
“I was double checking a lead on Aurra Sing. Looked promising, so I sent it to Peerce to look over. By the way, a pudding basin with plaits is _everything_ wrong with your hair.”  
  
“How can _you_ judge hair style? You don't even have hair.”  
  
A bluish tint began to grow on J'Mikel's crest before suddenly turning grey as he leant back and laughed.  
  
“Oh, you make it too easy sometimes. Anyway, Adi said we'll be starting any moment now so how's about we just take it easy and get comfortable, huh?”  
  
Stass twitched again.  
  
Bultar suddenly noticed something - or rather a lack of someone - as she looked up at J'Mikel's comment. “Hey, A'Sharad. Where's your master?”  
  
“She's... not exactly held in high esteem by many in the order. She didn't think it was a good idea to be here.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“You don't know?” said Xiaan, “His master's The Dark Woman.”  
  
“Wait, seriously?” she stared at A'Sharad before lowering her voice, “Are you... okay? Did-”  
  
“I'm fine,” snapped A'Sharad, “And I'd appreciate it if you didn't ask about it.”  
  
“But are the rumours true? Does she-”  
  
“Drop it,” said Xiaan firmly, “This is why he didn't tell you before; he knew how you'd react.”  
  
Bultar stared at them, confusion growing. She was however prevented from pressing the matter further by the arrival of Agen Kolar, a dark-skinned Zabrak with dotted tattoos and a long mane of even darker hair. He squeezed past them and took the empty space between Stass and Obi-Wan Kenobi – who was chatting with Siri Tachi, a pale-skinned human girl with long blonde hair – and paying absolutely no attention to Stass.  
  
“What kept you?” asked Stass, turning to face him as she perked up again.  
  
“I lost my lightsaber.”  
  
Stass gaped at him, “What?”  
  
“I don't want to talk about it”  
  
She shrugged as Master Norcuna sat down in the row behind, behind Agen, with a slightly fading scowl. The straight-backed light blue Twi'Lek looked as if he wanted to say something to Agen, but was prevented by the P.A.  
  
_“Attention. Attention. Anyone remaining standing please take your seats. Ignition is imminent and lift off will occur in approximately two minutes.”_  
  
That brought Bultar's attention back to the evacuation. Feeling the nerves build in side her again she desperately tried not to shake.  
  
“I love it when Master Bulq is on the PA; It's like listening to benevolence itself,” sighed K'Kruhk as he smiled at Bultar, he must have noticed some of her nerves because he then added, “You'll be fine, trust me.”  
  
Bultar forced herself to smile back. She had to distract herself somehow. Looking down towards the centre of the rotunda she spotted Master Mahn, who was indeed checking off names on a console by the stage with a slightly frantic look on her face. That would do. She elbowed K'Kruhk and pointed down at her. K'Kruhk smiled at her and chuckled. This wasn't working, she still couldn't get the thought of shooting into the sky in less than two minutes now out of her head. She tried not to shake as the engine's rumbled.  
  
_“Ignition.”_  
  
The entire Council of First Knowledge had gathered round the console Master Mahn had been using. Bultar hadn't even noticed Micah get up and leave, yet there he was with the others. She saw R3-K9, Master Reivzx' droid, enter from the north entrance and stop at the Councillors. Apparently he told them something they had been waiting to hear because they all separated to take seats. Those with apprentices sat behind their apprentices in the higher rows. Those without sat, along with the other apprentice-less instructors at evenly spaced points among the younglings in the seating near the stage. Bultar saw master Reivzx raise a comlink in her hand.  
  
_“Lift off in one minute. I would like to remind you that the gravitational field generators of an interstellar space station cannot be safely turned on until we escape orbit, so getting up would be rather foolish. Admittedly funny, so feel free but it's your problem if you do.”_  
  
'Okay Bultar, just breathe. Nothing bad can happen. There are too many safeties. There are inertia fields to stop us going flying. The air recycling system is foolproof. Nothing to worry about... Absolutely. Completely and utterly nothing.'  
  
_“Twenty seconds,”_ sounded an automated voice.  
  
'What! What happened to one minute? Okay breathe, breathe,' Her face grew paler as her breathing increased and her hands gripped the underside of the seating. Her nails, eroded from a full day's worth of apprehension, dug into the cushion. K'Kruhk reached down to one of her hands and prised it off, holding it firmly.  
  
“Don't let go,” she whispered.  
  
He nodded back, “I look after my friends.”  
  
_“Ten.”_  
  
'What the-'  
  
_“Nine”_  
  
'No,' She began to shake.  
  
_“Eight”_  
  
'I want off.'  
  
_“Seven”_  
  
'Fuck, shit, shit, kriff, fuck, kriffing shit.'  
  
“Six”  
  
'Nononononono-' suddenly, without warning, K'Kruhk yanked her into one of his giant bear hugs.  
  
'Oh.'  
  
Safe.  
  
Her arms quickly returned the hug, holding on with all her might. She could hardly hear the countdown now. Barely felt the surge of upward thrust as they ascended - surprisingly gently - into the sky. Then she felt the pull of gravity increasing, the nausea that came with it and the general feeling of all her insides being dragged down to her pelvis. She was quite glad of K'Kruhk right now, without him wasn't sure she could stop herself freaking out. After about half an hour The Ouran's umbrella shaped hull pierced the upper cloud-line, the skylight's glass tinting darker automatically to protect against the now visible sun. Bultar's nausea began to ease slightly and her death-grip lessened on K'Kruhk. Ten minutes after that, the Ouran picked up speed and in a further two minutes it had left the atmosphere. Within seconds the nausea vanished as gravity returned. Master Yoda had stood now - not that it made much difference - and raised his comlink.  
  
_“Activated, the gravity generators have been. Rise and stretch a good idea, it would be to - if joints, you happen to have.”_  
  
Slowly, Bultar extricated herself from K'Kruhk's voluminous mass.  
  
“Thanks,” she said quietly.  
  
“Hey, I told you: I look after my friends,” he responded with a grin.  
  
Bultar looked around. More or less everyone was getting up and wondering off. A'Sharad, Xiaan, Stass and Agen were already waiting for them at the end of the row.  
  
“Sorry about that,” Bultar said nervously when she and K'Kruhk caught up. They just shrugged.  
  
“Don't worry about it,” said Agen and they began to make their way down the steps to the floor.  
  
“Okay, celebration time,” said Xiaan, who proceeded to fill her lungs and then yell, “PANCAKES! PANCAKES FOR ALL!”  
  
“Sounds like a plan,” added K'Kruhk gleefully.  
  
_“Apprentice K'Kruhk, Apprentice Allie,”_ came Master Hanta's voice over the PA, _“Report to Master Mahn's office immediately to speak with Masters Hanta and Mahn.”_  
  
Stass and K'Kruhk stared at each other, identical looks of horror dawning on their faces. Just behind them, Master Kcaj utterly failed to conceal his sniggering, while Master Twoseas shook her head and Master Giiett rolled his eyes.  
  
“Fuck,” muttered Stass.


	2. Firsts And Lasts

Master Hanta wasn't too hard on them, K'Kruhk thought as they left Master Mahn's office. He had been content with demanding that they tell Master Mahn their exact comments about her with a full apology, then informed them that he would be passing on the details to their respective masters. He also chastised Stass for swearing in the presence of younglings.  
  
“Aaand he heard me swearing, _how_?” asked Stass when they were safely seated in one of the Ouran's common rooms with the other four.  
  
“He knows, he always knows,” A'Sharad deadpanned.  
  
“So, pancakes?” asked Xiaan, a hopeful grin sprouting on her face. Agen rolled his eyes and got up.  
  
“Fine, I can take a hint, one batch of Kolar's Signature Pancakes coming up,” With that, they left for the nearest kitchens. Apparently Agen's voice had carried because when they arrived at the kitchens, they found a disproportionately high number of fellow apprentices already present. Bruck Chun was at least subtle about it. Obi-Wan on the other hand...  
  
“Oh Agen, are you making pancakes? Enough for one more?”  
  
Then Siri, Bant Eerin, Pablo-Jill and Aayla Secura all _conveniently_ walked in at the same time. Agen sighed. At this rate he was going to be making for the entire deck.

* * *

  
**[Training decks, The Ouran, space above Coruscant, the Coruscant system]**  
  
Jedi Master Adi Gallia took a long breath in as she assumed her opening stance. She carried herself well, as usual. Her sleeveless green tunic rested for a moment on her dark shoulders. Then the Tholothian released her breath and brought her arms up on each side, electricity crackling in each hand. She shunted her hands forward, shifting her weight onto her front leg. The lightning cascaded from her fingers and struck the target around two metres away, causing it to smoke heavily. After a moment, the lightning abated as the target crumbled to ash.  
  
“Impressive,” commented Master Oppo Rancisis from the side.  
  
“Yes,” added Master Saesee Tiin in his absurdly relaxing voice, “Almost perfect. One hair out of place.” Adi's eyes focussed on the single dreadlock that had escaped over her forehead from under her headdress. She shrugged, tucking it back under.  
  
“Eh, it's just a hair. Good enough I think,” she replied in her Zaori accent as she returned to a standing position and walked over to Saesee, who held her cloak.  
  
“Well, shall we go. The rest of the council will be waiting for us,” said Saesee as he handed her cloak back.  
  
“Ah yes - it's your first session since your appointment, isn't it?” said Master Rancisis, directing his gaze to Adi as they left the training room and proceeded to the turbo-lifts, “ _Goodness_ , that takes me back,” Past Adi, Saesee smiled sadly. Noticing this, Oppo realised what he had said, “Saesee I know Master Bouri's loss was hard on you, but we all had to move on.”  
  
“I know,” he said, shaking his head and clearing his expression,  
  
“We all lose our Masters one day. But then again who am I to talk; Yaddle's still kicking and that's not likely to change soon,” added Oppo.  
  
They reached the nearest turbo lift and filed in. Oppo directed his gaze up at the speakers in the corners.  
  
“Where does Zourvux get this elevator music? I've never heard of it before.”  
  
Saesee shrugged, “Who knows, but I like it,” They waited in a comfortable silence as the turbo-lift ascended, listening to the music.  
  
“I don't get it, what's so romantic about flying to the moon? And what are Jupiter and Mars?” asked Adi.  
  
“Probably planets somewhere, it's a big galaxy. He has a wonderful voice though,” replied Saesee.  
  
“That he does,” said Adi as she closed her eyes and bobbed her head in time with the music.  
  
The elevator stopped, revealing a small crescent shaped antechamber with sofas for waiting on each side and a pair of double doors opposite the lift. Zourvux along with Masters Tholme and Plo Koon were sitting on the sofas apparently waiting to be called in.  
  
Plo was an unusual alien to be sure - a Kel'Dor. His oddly-shaped head, clawed bony fingers, protective goggles and breath-mask was a bizarre sight to most.  
  
Tholme by contrast was somewhat unspectacular. To be honest, he would be best described as understated. A middle-aged human with a loose, greying ponytail and weathered face.  
  
Adi stopped by Zourvux, who looked up at her.  
  
“Nice elevator music, where'd you get it?”  
  
“Ah, the singer is a very old friend of mine called Frank. He was once gave me a live recording, that was a very long time ago now. I thought it would be good to use it for something other than my personal enjoyment.”  
  
Adi chuckled and moved on, inclining her head to Plo and Tholme as she neared the doors.  
“So, ready to walk through those doors as one of us?” Asked Oppo, “Nothing will be the same after this.”  
  
“Oh, for the love of...” Adi rolled her eyes and marched through the doors leaving Oppo frozen mid-theatrics and Saesee with a small smile on his face. The High Council chamber itself was more or less a copy of the one from the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, a circular room with windows making up most of the walls, a domed roof and 13 chairs (specialised to each councillor's species) arranged in circular formation around the edge with a gap where the doors were. All but three of the seats were, as Oppo had thought, already occupied.  
  
First anticlockwise was Master Tyvokka, an impressive looking Wookiee dressed in long grey robes with a curved lightsaber at his belt, inlaid with wood. He was one of those people who was always friendly and always put a positive spin on things.  
  
Next was Master Mace Windu; a dark-skinned Korun Human with a foul mouth and a generally frightening attitude... at least to those who didn't know him. Those who knew him personally were more likely to think of his sense of humour if asked about him.  
  
Third was Master Yoda. Adi had no idea what species he was. A legend in the order who was over eight hundred years old, Yoda tended to always surprise Adi when she was certain she'd seen every trick up his sleeve.  
  
Beside him was Master Micah Giiett. Adi only tangentially knew him as the master of Stass' friend and that he was also a member of the Council of First Knowledge, specialising in instructing on technology. Having never met him she couldn't say anything about his personality.  
  
Fifth was an empty seat, Saesee's. Saesee was probably the only council member Adi could honestly say she _knew_. With rubber-like skin and horns that curved inwards and down, he looked somewhat imposing to most. A gentle soul of an Iktotchi with a gentler voice, Master Tiin had defended his claim as The Order's best pilot for more than ten years. He was also a master at using The Force, but preferred not to be referred to as such.  
  
Master Yaddle was next. She was the same species as Yoda, but about three to four hundred years younger, as the brown topknot attested to. Adi had only seen her use her lightsaber once. She had been very impressed. Yaddle had taught Adi occasionally when Adi was a youngling, but the two hadn't really known each other. At the time Adi had been impressed with Yaddle's almost constant calm which turned to a controlled energy in combat.  
  
Beside Yaddle was Master Even Piell, a battle-scarred Lannik that Adi had wanted to meet for some time now. He was one of the Order's most legendary warriors and a shrewd diplomat, having been the Battlemaster at one point.  
  
The next seat was empty and belonged to Oppo. The slender, serpentine, four-armed Thisspiasian was best known for his tactical mastery and inability to lose any game of strategy he happened to be challenged to.  
  
The third and last empty seat was next. This seat was now Adi's. If asked to describe herself, Adi would tell that she was a diplomat who could shoot force lightning and was a capable pilot. If someone else was asked to described her they would probably focus on her force lightning skill some more or discuss her battle with the darksiders Nikkos Tyris and Aurra Sing the previous year, which had resulted in her ascension to the council, Tyris' retreat into hiding and the first known occasion of a Jedi walking away from a fight with Sing.  
  
The tenth seat was occupied by Master Yarael Poof, his extensive neck forcing him to look down in any given conversation. Exactly why the Quermian kept his second pair of arms hidden under his excessively voluminous sleeves was anybody's guess. If one decided to ask about him in the Temple, you would get more than a few angry complaints about his frequent mischievous tricks using his signature alterations to perceptions. Yarael stubbornly insisted he was training the unwary against more cunning opponents.  
  
Eleventh was Master Eeth Koth, a Zabrak and master duellist who wore long robes and a permanently inquiring gaze on his face lined with tattoos. He was known for being adept at resisting pain, having trained from a young age to resist even the most excruciating agony.  
  
In the twelfth seat was Master Depa Billaba. A Chalactan Human with braids curved into two rings whose entire array of movements all seemed to involve swooping. This was mostly down to her long, billowing robes and generally serene grace. A former padawan of Master Windu; Depa was something of a living legend, having become extremely adept at lightsaber combat and amassing the single largest number of completed missions of any living Jedi (except Yoda)  
  
In the final seat was master T'Un. Adi was honestly surprised to him there. On the many occasions Adi had reason to be in the High Council's presence, T'Un had only been present a handful of times. In addition, on those occasions he had said very little. He was old, very old, with long fingers, grey skin, an extremely flat nose and peculiar lined markings on most of his body. Again, Adi didn't know his species.  
  
Adi, Saesee and Oppo all took their seats quickly as Mace smoothed down his robes and began, “If we're all ready, shall we begin?” There was no objection, some nodding. Tyvokka pressed a button on his chair and the doors opened, admitting Zourvux.  
  
“Zourvux, how are the younglings?” Asked Micah.  
  
“Settling in well,” she replied. “We've also received the all clear from the remaining transports. The only people left on Coruscant are those who want to stay.”  
  
“Well we can't make them leave,” said Master Piell, “We're not their nannies.”  
  
Zourvux chuckled at that, “Anyway we're awaiting your word to enter hyperspace.”  
  
“Destination?” asked Eeth.  
  
“Falleen, in the eponymous system, they've agreed to allow us long term orbit and are prepared to negotiate on a permanent plot of land.”  
  
Micah leaned forward at this,“The Falleen system? Where Bultar's first solo mission is going to be?”  
  
“Yes,” came her reply, “We'll be dropping her off when we arrive.”  
  
“Any objections are there to immediate departure?” Asked Yaddle.  
  
“Best wait until tomorrow, sometime after midday,” said Depa.  
  
“1pm then?” said Eeth.  
  
“All in favour?” asked Oppo.  
  
“Aye,” said every councillor simultaneously.  
  
“Very well. To depart tomorrow, permission is granted, Zourvux. Send in Plo and Tholme on your way out, could you?” said Yoda  
  
Zourvux nodded and left. After a moment the doors opened again and Tholme and Plo Koon walked in.  
  
“Master Koon - good to see you, it is. A mission we may have for you. How much know, do you about Iaco Stark?” said Yoda.  
  
“A little,” came his deep reply, “He is a pirate and smuggler who has preyed almost exclusively on the Trade Federation for years.”  
  
“Indeed,” said Yarael, “Yet you may not know that while he profits from stolen goods, his prices are still substantially lower than the Trade Federation's. It isn't legal to buy from him but almost half the Outer Rim and a good chunk of the Expansion region does. He's been very clever; by undercutting the frankly extortionate prices of the various trade and commerce organisations he's made himself into something of a hero in the people's eyes. And you call _me_ a master trickster... I can only dream of performing a con so simple.”  
  
“Anyone who's met him will tell you his true colours pretty quickly,” said Eeth, “He is a man with vision, but the vision is focussed only on himself. The strange thing is that he doesn't even try to hide it.”  
  
“How delightfully unflattering. Unfortunately his vision may be a serious problem; he's recently been meeting with other pirate groups, smuggling organisations, bounty hunters, assassins and other organised crime groups. A lot of them,” Said Depa, “About a week ago he formed The Stark Commercial Combine – a coalition of all the parties he's met with.”  
  
“And how are the other major crime organisations taking this? The Hutt Cartel, The Exchange, Black Sun. The galaxy isn't big enough for another faction like this, how did they let this happen?” Asked Tholme.  
  
“Simple, Stark's giving all of them a stake in the Combine.” Came Depa's reply.  
  
“All of them?” asked Adi, “Genoharadan?”  
  
“As far as we can tell they're not involved. Still backing the Republic,” said Mace.  
  
Adi breathed a sigh of relief. She would not have enjoyed having to break _that_ to Stass.  
  
“That's not all. Yesterday at 16:25 local time, the largest of the three alzahi processing plants on Thyferra exploded.”  
  
Everyone stared at Depa.  
  
“How bad?” asked Even.  
  
“86 dead, 13 wounded. The plant itself was a lost cause.”  
  
There was a long silence finally broken by Tyvokka,  <The other two plants cannot meet the demand of the third plant... without alzahi... Xucphra Corporation cannot produce bacta. The most powerful healing agent in the galaxy is now the rarest. It's price will skyrocket.>  
  
Depa nodded, “Correct. The Stark Commercial Combine reacted within hours, targeting hundreds of Trade Federation medical supply convoys. They sold the bacta on for the standard price instead of the new inflated price; as a result most of the Outer Rim now looks to Stark as a champion of the masses.”  
  
“Let me guess,” said Adi, “The Trade Federation is now demanding protection from the republic, or the right to field their own army to protect themselves.”  
  
“Exactly,” came the reply, “Senator Ranulph Tarkin of Eriadu is now pressing to reform the Republic military while Senator Finis Valorum of the Lytton Sector is persuing a diplomatic resolution.”  
  
Adi laughed, “You've just described their entire careers, Tarkin means well but he's too single minded; he thinks all the Republic's problems would be solved by bringing back the military. I like Valorum, but he doesn't have the political savvy to last in government.”  
  
“Senator Valorum has arranged a meeting between a representative of the Trade Federation and the leaders of Stark's Commercial Combine. The Jedi have been asked to mediate along with Senator Valorum,” finished Depa.  
  
“And you would wish me and Tholme to be part of the party attending,” said Plo.  
“Yes,” came her reply.  
  
“Master Tyvokka, I formally request you to attend as chief negotiator,” said Even  
“All in favour?” asked Yoda.  
  
“Aye,” came a collective reply.  
  
“All against?”  
  
Silence.  
  
<Very well, I wish Master Gallia to accompany me also.>  
  
She nodded. “Of course; master diplomat at your service. And I think my padawan will should benefit from this; I'll bring her along.”  
  
“Anyone else?” asked Depa.  
  
<I think two council members is more than enough,> said Tyvokka.  
  
“Excellent,” came her reply, “Senator Valorum will meet with you all in his office tomorrow morning at 10am, a shuttle will be waiting for you in the hanger to take you to Nigh Verity. Plo, Tholme, you are dismissed.”  
  
Plo and Tholme nodded before turning to leave.  
  
“Alright that's two of two items on the agenda done. Council adjourned?” asked Micah.  
  
There were no objections.  
  
“Adjourned the council is then.” said Yoda and they all rose.  
  
Most of them turned towards the door apart from Yarael – who turned to admire the view of the increasingly distant planet – and Adi, who made a beeline for Even.  
  
“Um... Master Piell? I, I wanted to thank you. For what you did for my parents.”  
  
He looked up at her, craning his neck before speaking.  
  
“Your parents?”  
  
“Yes, on Lannik.”  
  
His eyes widened. “The Corellian diplomats? Huh, small galaxy. Yes, they did mention they had a daughter, but I thought you were Tholothian?”  
  
“I am; my parents emigrated to Corellia when they got married.”  
  
“Oh I see. Well, please pass on my regards if you see them.”  
  
“Yes, yes of course and if there's anything I can do for y-”  
  
“That won't be necessary,” he said, “Saesee speaks very highly of you, glad to have you aboard. Now if you'll excuse me, I have tomorrow's youngling class to prepare.”

* * *

  
**[Padawans' kitchens, The Ouran]**  
  
“You okay Bultar? You've been very quiet,” Bultar looked up across the sea of plates towards K'Kruhk's inquisitive gaze.  
  
“Yeah, just zoned out for a bit,” she said.  
  
“Please don't lie to me.”  
  
'Shit,' She smiled sheepishly before replying, “We're going to be on this station for a while, aren't we.”  
  
“'Fraid so,” said Agen from her left, “you'll be fine once you settle in. Besides it could be worse; _you could have just had to cook pancakes for thirty_.”  
  
“So what's this I heard about you getting your first solo mission?” Stass asked Bultar. Bultar shrugged but perked up none the less.  
  
“Dunno what it is yet; briefing's tomorrow so I guess I'll find out more then.”  
  
“At least you'll spend some time off-station. That's good right?” said Xiaan.  
  
“Yeah but I'll be back aboard soon enough,” said Bultar darkly.  
  
“Hey you should take the small victories, you never know when they'll come.” She replied.  
  
“And who's line was that?” said Bultar, her eyebrow raising.  
  
“It's _no-one's_ line,” said Xiaan.  
  
“It's Master Lev'loa's.”  
  
“DAMMIT STASS!” yelled Xiaan.  
  
“All too easy,” Stass purred in her Shinti accent as a small grin sprouted on her face. Xiaan's best reaction settled for grumbling unintelligibly.  
  
“Xiaan does have a point though, wouldn't you rather get some time away from the Ouran than none?” said A'Sharad, “The krayt dragon prospers most when it wastes no prey.”  
  
Bultar shrugged again, “Eh, you're probably right.”  
  
“Course he's right, he's using Tusken metaphors again.” said Stass.  
  
“They truly are a wise and enlightened people,” said A'Sharad in a false-sage voice, causing K'Kruhk to guffaw uncontrollably and Bultar to roll her eyes.  
  
“That was probably the single most blatant lie you've ever told,” snorted Agen.  
  
“They got some real nice proverbs though,” added K'Kruhk when he finally recovered.  
  
“Hmm, well anyway it's getting late. I'm off to bed, see you tomorrow,” said Agen. With that, he got up and left. Bultar looked around to find the kitchens more or less devoid of life, save for their table.  
  
“Guess we should get to bed too.”  
  
“Suppose so,” said Xiaan, “But first: hey Stass.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“VENGEANCE!” cried Xiaan as she hurled the last remaining pancake right at Stass' face. She was rather surprised when Stass cleanly slid into Agen's vacated space and the pancake landed in the bin by the wall.  
  
“Piece of advice Xiaan: sneak attacks don't work if you yell it out loud,” said Stass.

* * *

  
The woman slowly and precisely ran the brush through her daughter's dark hair. The daughter, about five years old, sat at the desk and kept perfectly still, staring straight ahead.  
  
“There we are, all finished,” said the woman as she laid the brush onto the dressing table and took a bright blue ribbon from the top drawer and pulled her daughter's hair into a neat bun before tying it.  
  
“Are you looking forward to today?”  
  
“Yes mother.”  
  
“Wonderful, now I need you to do your very best today. Make me proud,” She took a Tholothian headdress from the stand – one identical to her own, only smaller - and placed it on her daughter's head.  
  
“There we are. Perfect,” She smiled down at her daughter. Her face was powdered the colour of porcelain, as was her daughter's. The woman's eyes were a vibrant green and shone kindly in the morning sunlight. She also wore a traditional four part dress – again identical to her daughter's.  
  
She lowered her hands to the restraints on the arms of her daughter's chair and released them, doing the same to the leg restraints using her foot with well-practised ease. The girl suddenly darted out of the chair but was stopped by her mother's firm hands clasping her by each shoulder.  
  
“Come along dear, we need to get going.”  
  
She guided her daughter out of the room and along the ornate corridor. The walls were painted with traditional murals and there were racks of ancient weaponry, plinths housing fine artworks and other luxuries placed at intervals along them. Finally they came to a sliding door, a lacquered extravagance inlaid with gold.  
  
“Now remember. The needle is thinner than a germ; he won't feel anything more than an itch but he will be dead within the week,” the mother said and handed the girl a ring very carefully, “So, what are you going to do?”  
  
“I will introduce myself. I will bow to him. Then I will shake his hand. I will then excuse myself. I will be too shy to greet anyone else.”  
  
“Perfect. I'll be watching.” She waited for her daughter to put on the ring – taking care to make sure that the jewel was on the inside of her hand – before walking through the door.  
  
They were now within the Forbidden Court. It was a splendid room filled with the finest music, most exquisite furniture and nobles from every clan. The walls were lacquered panels, the soft carpet between her toes was a soft green today, servants meandered around providing food and drink of the highest quality and of course the shutters on the great eastern window were open. The circular view it allowed of the Valley Of The Autumn Spirits below was simply breathtaking. The girl ignored all this however. It was hardly her first attendance here and it would not be the last. The man was more important right now. He was standing not too far away speaking with a woman dressed entirely in white and whose face was not powdered. The man's face turned to her as she approached and his face – powdered indigo – broke into a gentle, encouraging smile.  
  
The girl froze - her smile faltering, beginning to tremble.  
  
“No need to be afraid my dear, I am clans-man Anno Urobuchi. May I ask your name?” He said as he bowed to her. She shook a little, but he just remained bowing and waited.  
  
“I... I am... I am clans-child...”  
  
She stopped, unable to move.  
  
“It's quite alright,” he said, “Take your time.”  
  
After several more attempts she was finally able to introduce herself and bowed hurriedly.  
“Why that's a lovely name,” he said as he stretched out his hand – both of them still bowing. The girl looked at the hand. If she took it, he would die. The miniscule needle in the ring would pierce one of his capillaries and deliver a slow acting but incurable venom. He would be gone. This kind man would have been killed by her.  
  
Her lip trembled.  
  
Suddenly she turned and ran, out the nearest door. She almost flew along the corridor until she found a window. Pulling off the ring and leaning against the lowered shutter, she gazed out at the mist and thick foliage of the valley below, trying to calm herself. Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder.  
  
“Try again.”  
  
It was her mother, her face unreadable and even. Dropping the ring, the girl's hands clenched into fists.  
  
“No,” she said quietly  
  
“Excuse me? What did you say to me young lady?”  
  
The daughter turned towards her mother, wrenching her shoulder away, “NO,” she shouted, “I WON'T DO IT!”  
  
Her mother grabbed her by each arm, “Do not shout at your mother young lady. You will do as your mother says. You will not disobey me.”  
  
“NO!” the girl shouted again, trying desperately to pull free. Her mother's hands were gripping onto her arms very tightly now, her mother's face was contorting in anger.  
  
“I AM YOUR MOTHER! YOU ARE MY DAUGHTER! YOU ARE MY PERFECT LITTLE GIRL!” she roared leaning in closer to the girl, “You must be immaculate...” the mother whispered as her hands travelled up the girl's sleeves and caressed her face, “Tell you what dear, you do what you're told and you'll get a big lolly afterwards. How about a jogan fruit lolly? You like jogan fruit.”  
  
“No,” the girl said again, “I don't.”  
  
The woman's eye twitched, “Of course you do, I like jogan fruit. So must you. You're my special little lady. You're just like me. Y-”  
  
“I don't like jogan fruit. I told you.”  
  
The woman's face contorted, her hands fell from her daughter's face to neck and wrapped around it, tightening. The girl's violet eyes widened in terror as she fought for breath, scrabbling at her mother's hands. White powder filled the air as it was smeared away in the understated scuffle exposing the dark skin of the girl's face and her mother's hands.  
  
“You are such a disappointment, Stass.”

* * *

  
**[Padawans' quarters, The Ouran]**  
  
Agen woke to the sound of a scream. No, not a scream. He knew that sound. It was a roar, a cry of attack, of anger, fury. The source of the noise had chosen fight over flight. He knew that sound. He knew exactly who was making it and he knew exactly why. He leapt out of his bed as fast as possible, grabbed his cabin key-card along with one other key-card and dashed out of the door.  
  
His friend needed him.


	3. Meetings

Agen burst into the passageway and skidded to a halt at Stass' door opposite his. He shoved the second key-card he'd taken into the lock and threw the door open. Stass was huddled up against the headboard with her lightsaber drawn, bathing the room in a green glow. Her eyes were wide but unfocussed, her breathing heavy and uneven. Agen slowly walked into her cabin, taking great care to move slowly and deliberately. He could hear confused voices behind him now, other padawans were gathering around the open door in confusion. Agen slowly reached down and took his own lightsaber from his belt.  
  
“Hold this,” he said as he passed it to a stunned Xiaan behind him. He slowly edged closer to Stass, who seemed not to notice. She remained locked in her alarmed state.  
  
“Out of my way please,” Master Reivzx, followed closely by Master Hanta, finally reached Stass' door and looked in. She surveyed the situation for less than a second.  
  
“Loton, get Adi and Coleman. Agen, keep going. Everyone else, back to bed. Now.”  
  
Master Hanta marched off at an astonishing pace as the padawans slowly dissipated. K'Kruhk, Xiaan and Bultar stayed, looking at Master Reivzx.  
  
“Fine, you can stay but wait in the passageway,” she said as they turned to watch Agen.  
  
“Where's A'Sharad?” Bultar whispered.  
  
“Wrappings,” said Xiaan.  
  
“Oh.”  
  
Agen was now just a few centimetres from Stass' lightsaber blade, his eyes firmly fixed on hers. Slowly he reached out and placed his hands over hers, “It's okay Stass. You're aboard the Ouran, remember?”  
  
One by one he slowly tugged each finger off the hilt. Her breathing began to stabilise.  
  
“It's me, Agen. You are safe here. It's alright.”  
  
He finally prised the lightsaber from her hands and held it out behind him; Master Reivzx quickly took it and shut it off.  
  
“What's going on? Was that a lightsaber?” A'Sharad asked Xiaan as he came running down the corridor. Xiaan put her fingers to her lips and shushed him, then pointed into the cabin.  
  
Stass' eyes began to focus , taking in the Zabrak sitting on her bed.  
  
“Agen?”  
  
“She can't hurt you anymore,” he whispered.  
  
Tears began to stream from her eyes.  
  
Suddenly she collapsed, prompting Agen to draw her into a hug as she broke down completely.  
  
A few minutes passed, then Master Hanta returned with Coleman Kcaj and Master Gallia. “I- I'm sorry Master, it happened again..” Stass managed to choke out between sobs as Coleman sat down beside her and Agen.  
  
“Quite alright, Stass. You're not in any trouble, we just want to help you,” he said as he reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently.  
  
Masters Gallia, Reivzx and Hanta were having a hushed conversation by the door as Stass slowly calmed down. When she had stopped shaking and Agen felt it was safe enough, he released her but interlocked his arm with hers as Master Gallia approached them and knelt down.  
  
“Stass, do you want me to contact Uehara?” She nodded, sniffling a little.  
  
“Okay, I'm leaving in the morning but I'll call him before I go.”  
  
Eventually Stass was calm enough to go back to sleep, Coleman insisting that he stay in her room to watch over her. The masters left, leaving the other five apprentices in the passageway.  
  
“You've done this before,” K'Kruhk said to Agen as the others looked at him, “You knew about this.”  
  
“Yes,” said Agen, he turned to his door, “We had rooms next to each other on Coruscant; it would have been impossible to not know.”  
  
“Why didn't you tell us?” Asked Bultar.  
  
“Because Stass didn't,” said Agen as he entered his cabin and shut the door behind him.

* * *

  
**[Observation Decks, The Ouran, space above Coruscant, the Coruscant system]**  
  
<Why didn't you take it?> Tyvokka asked Plo as they both gazed out at the view of Coruscant below. It was morning, or more accurately simulated morning. They were on one of the Ouran's observation decks beginning a conversation that Tyvokka suspected was going to go nowhere.  
  
“Take what?”  
  
Tyvokka sighed. So Plo was going to make this hard, <The council offered you the seat, but you turned it down. Why?>  
  
“I do not believe I would be best suited to the role. There are many others who would be better suited. Adi was a better choice,” Plo said after a moment's pause.  
  
<You may be aware that excess pride leads to one's downfall, Plo, but have you considered that excess humility prevents you from being as good as you can be?>  
  
Plo had no answer to that.  
  
<As Jedi it is our responsibility to know our full capabilities and know when they are _needed_. >  
  
There was another moment's silence.  
  
“I will consider what you have said Master.”  
  
Tyvokka grunted, <I keep telling you Plo - I'm not your master anymore. I haven't been for years now so please address me as an equal.>  
  
“I'm sorry Mas- er, Tyvokka,” Plo replied.  
  
Tyvokka playfully cuffed him about the head, <You always were the most humble, polite, stubborn and difficult padawan Plo.>  
  
“Er, yes, thank you for pointing out further flaws to improve on...”  
  
<Well at least you gave me an opportunity to practise handling frustration again, Plo.>  
  
“Oh I live to serve..” said Plo, a grin in his voice.  
  
Tyvokka shook his head, <Well we'd better be get to the hangars, our shuttle awaits.>

* * *

  
**[Aishintu, Tholoth, the Tholoth system]**  
  
Clan-master Uehara Allie was taking his morning tea when one of his servants informed him that Jedi Master Adi Gallia had requested communication with him. He was a rather unassuming dark skinned Tholothian man in his mid-to-late-thirties with a long, well-kept beard that had gone prematurely grey and narrow, violet eyes. He set the small wooden cup down.  
  
“Please put her through,” he said.  
  
There were only two reasons Adi would contact him, either it involved Stass or there had been a major development involving Tholothian politics. If the latter was the reason for Adi's call then he would have heard about it by now. This only left the former option. The servant placed a communicator on the table and a moment later a hologram of Adi flickered into life.  
  
“Hey there Uehara, murdered anyone lately?” she asked, a scowl growing on her face.  
  
“I'm no murderer Adi, would you kindly tell me what has happened with Stass?”  
  
Adi's eyes narrowed, “Oh so now you're perceptive, could have used that perception a long time ago. How convenient. Stass has had another flashback... she wants to talk to you, I'm just here to get hold of you.”  
  
Uehara sighed, “Please put her on. And Adi, I'm sorry; I should have noticed earlier.”  
  
Adi's image dissolved, replaced a second later by Stass'.  
  
“Hi father,” she said.  
  
“How are you feeling? Is it getting any better?” Uehara asked.  
  
“Not really, thanks for seeing me,” she replied.  
  
“You are my daughter, who I failed. It is your right to see me whenever you wish.”  
  
“Thank you father. Can I see _her_?”  
  
“If it will put you at ease, then of course,” he said and turned to the servant, “Open the sepulchre.”  
  
The servant nodded, “Of course my lord.”  
  
He bowed and left the room briskly. Uehara took up his tea and downed it.  
  
“So, how is your training going?”  
  
“Well I passed my Trial of the Flesh... and I'm pretty sure you heard about Coruscant.”  
  
“That's brilliant Stass; er about the trial, not Coruscant... that was bad... How are your friends? Any of them passed any of their trials?”  
  
“Bultar's passed two, Agen's done three and K'Kruhk's only got one left.”  
  
“Well it's certainly good to know you're all getting on so well,” his smile turned a little sly, “So have you met any nice boys? I have a new selection of weaponry I'd like very much to test out...”  
  
Stass snorted, “Father you know very well I'm not going to run off with a boy. Jedi, remember?”  
  
Uehara's smirk widened, “Well I hope not; If you must break the Jedi code I'd rather it was at least with an Aishintu boy.”  
  
They were interrupted by the return of the servant, “My lord the sepulchre has been opened.”  
“Thank you Mao, take a break,” Uehara briefly regarded his teacup thoughtfully before placing it back on the table. He rose from the cushion he was sat on, picked up the communicator and left the modest teahouse. He stepped out into an equally modest garden. There were many grand and impressive gardens on the Allie clan estate but Uehara preferred his little sanctuary privately nestled at the back of the estate against the valley wall. In any case it was by far the most secure, something he was certain Rika appreciated.  
  
He couldn't help but notice the slight movement out of the corner of his eye, the ever so minor twitch of a nearby tree branch as she followed just out of sight. Uehara was one of perhaps three people alive able to notice her movements when she didn't wish to be seen.  
  
He marched across the estate talking with Stass as he went until he reached the entrance to the sepulchre. The large stone door was moved to one side and the lights switched on inside.  
  
“Are you sure about this Stass?”  
  
“Yes. I need to do this.”  
  
“Very well.”  
  
He stepped inside and strode over to the most recent sarcophagus, a five year old stone cuboid with a short engraving:

 

Aeris Sarabi Allie (Gallia)

  
Followed by a date of birth and a date of death. Uehara pressed a button on the wall beside it. A hissing sound filled the room as the sarcophagus was ventilated by the fumigation system. Uehara pressed another button and the lid slid off. He switched the communicator to display everything in a five meter radius and looked down into the sarcophagus. Inside was the decaying corpse of a woman. Normally Tholothians were buried wearing their headdress; this corpse was not. But the much more noticeable aspect of the body was that an ancient sword was stabbed through the head. The blade entered at the right temple and came out the back of the head on the left.  
  
“There, see, she's dead. Do you want to look for a while longer?”  
  
“No father. This is all I needed to see. Thank you.”  
  
“Okay, do call again soon.”  
  
“I'll see if I can find an excuse. Bye father.”  
  
Her image dissolved leaving Uehara alone with his thoughts and his dead wife. Well, almost alone.  
  
“Don't,” came Rika's voice, “Please stop blaming yourself.”  
  
“Why shouldn't I?” he said.  
  
There was silence.  
  
It dragged on.  
  
Seconds.  
  
Minutes.  
  
And then.  
  
“Because you are the one thing I can never protect you from.”

* * *

  
**[Nigh Verity, orbiting Coruscant, the Coruscant system]**  
  
Nigh Verity was enormous, even for a residential space station. A monolithic, jelly-fish structure the size of a large city. The centre of it comprised the senate chamber itself, with offices and residences for the thousands of senators in a ring surrounding it, behind the senate chamber pods of their respective worlds, regions and sectors. There had been some brief suggestion of redesigning the chamber and offices – which had almost inevitably crumbled before the status quo. The rest of the gargantuan station was occupied by facilities, commercial sections, a modest prison, many hangar bays, armouries, barracks, engines and residences of the senate employees. In effect it was a space-based mobile city, one dedicated exclusively to politics and the lives of politicians.  
  
Senator Finis Valorum sat in his office, waiting for the newly arrived Jedi congregation to take their seats. When everyone was settled he began.  
  
“Thank you Masters for meeting me on such short notice, I am afraid I am not familiar with many of you. Would you be so kind Adi?”  
  
“Of course,” she said, “Master Tyvokka, Master Plo Koon, Master Tholme and my apprentice, Siri Tachi,” gesturing to each as she introduced them.  
  
“Thank you, I shall jump straight to the point then. Stark has agreed to meet on Troiken in the Qotile System,” said Valorum, “To ensure the safety of those attending, the location is a strict secret known only to the attendees; to be honest I have my doubts this will really go anywhere. The real issue is the bacta shortage. Since we still have no estimate on how long it will be until Xucphra Corporation can build another alzahi plant, these talks may well stall indefinitely.”  
  
“That of course is assuming that there actually _is_ a bacta shortage,” said Tyvokka.  
  
They all turned to look at him.  
  
“Consider,” He continued, “A commonplace commodity suddenly becomes scarce – a commodity that is essential to intragalactic society no less. This _shortage_ has reaped obscene profits for both the Trade Federation and Xucphra Corporation. Coincidence?”  
  
“I think not!” interrupted Adi. Everyone stared at her, “Admit it, you were all thinking it.”  
  
“Okay fine, fair enough,” said Tholme, "As we were..."  
  
“Master Tyvokka, are you suggesting that they would both be willing to cause untold death, civil unrest and possibly all out war for a quick haul...” said Valorum.  
  
“Lets face it, this would not be the first time such a thing has been done,” said Plo, “Still neither organisation has a known history of such exploitation.”  
  
“We should investigate then. Covertly,” said Tyvokka, “Tholme, I know you were expecting a diplomatic assignment but you are one of our most covert Jedi. Could you discreetly investigate the Thyferran plant?”  
  
“Of course,” came his reply.  
  
“Good, you might want to take Quinlan. His psychometry may come in useful.”  
  
“Quinlan?” asked Valorum.  
  
“Quinlan Vos,” said Tholme, “my former padawan, now a Jedi knight. Yes, that could work. I believe his new padawan, Aayla, also knows the force camouflage technique I taught Quinlan. I will ask if he's willing to bring her along, it will be a good opportunity to test her ability in it. But who will take my place in the negotiations?”  
  
“I think Master Qui-Gon Jinn would benefit from it, his apprentice also,” said Plo, causing Siri to pay substantially more attention and Adi to roll her eyes.  
  
“Yes it is about time Qui-Gon was reminded of the importance of _considering other opinions_ ,” said Tyvokka.  
  
“Well then we should send word for him at once,” said Valorum, “And then we had best get going, the conference awaits. The representative for the Trade Federation is Minister Nute Gunray, a mid raking executive, Neimodian male with years of experience.”

* * *

  
**[Office of Minister Gunray, Nigh Verity]**  
  
“Senator-”  
  
“General,” said Ranulph Tarkin, very insistently.  
  
“ _General_ Tarkin then,” said Nute Gunray, “I harbour serious doubts about your plan. If discovered, so much could be lost-”  
  
“And how much _more_ could we both gain, I will provide the forces; all you need do is give me the target. I reiterate: tell me the location of this meeting and I guarantee you that Stark will be little more than a charred smear upon history. Without his leadership, his filthy little rabble shall disintegrate. I have covertly gathered an army – and navy – from those sympathetic to my cause.”  
  
Gunray's eyes widened at this, “But... but the treaty-”  
  
“Oh I am _acutely_ aware of the Mutual Demilitarisation Agreement. I protested against it being a term on that damned peace treaty. By the time the Sith realise that The Republic has a strong military force – and more importantly that they don't – it will be to late. After I crush Stark, I'm heading straight for Ziost,” Tarkin closed his eyes for a moment, his face relaxing into an unusual bliss as he pictured the scene, “Yes, they won't know what hit them; I think I will march on Korriban afterwards.”  
  
“No, I am sorry Tarkin but there is too much at stake. I could lose my ministration,” said Gunray, as he sipped at a glass.  
  
“Well then, perhaps you would care to consider what I could inform the senate of.”  
  
Gunray choked on his drink.  
  
“Yes,” continued Tarkin, “I know all about your subtle little dealings. The Trade Federation would naturally disown you as acting on your own and without their consent, they would dismiss you at once, you would lose all credibility. In short: you would be ruined.”  
  
“You... you are bluffing,”  
  
“Then call my bluff or give me what I need.”  
  
There was a long silence...  
  
“Troiken, the meeting is at Troiken.”  
  
“Good, send me a coded signal when it begins. We will home in on it's location and eliminate Stark when we arrive. When the day is done the ineffectually pathetic mewling of Valorum and his supporters will be smothered,” a manic gleam took over Tarkin's eyes at this, “The Galactic Republic will re-emerge as the prime superpower once more. And it will have a _strong_ Leader. After I'm done with the Sith, I'll march on Hutt Space, then The Wild Space Alliance. And then beyond.”

* * *

  
**[Conference block, The Ouran]**  
  
By the time Bultar arrived at the door, she felt just about secure enough to let go of the passage wall. She steadied herself for a moment, then knocked on the door. Almost immediately it slid open and Bultar was confronted with a snout. The snout of a Kubaz to be exact – a Kubaz wearing orange robes under a grey tabard, vivid red goggles and a black cloak with the hood pulled firmly over his head.  
  
“Ah Bultar, here you are,” said the Kubaz in a thick accent, “Come in, come in.”  
  
“Master Caudle! It's so good to see you,” said Bultar, “But what are you doing here?”  
  
“I shall be giving you your medical once over,” he replied with an air of smugness, “Y'know make sure you don't have any horrific illnesses, oozing fluids and other such before you go.”  
  
Bultar laughed nervously, the kind of nervous laugh that suggests that one has just heard something they wish they hadn't, before stepping into the conference room. The room itself was small and round, one of many such rooms on the Ouran. There was a round table in the middle with six chairs around it. Micah and Master Reivzx were already occupying two chairs. Bultar couldn't help but notice the glint of a yellow pendant around Reivzx' neck. It was small, circular and had a black spider shape on it. Now that she thought about it, the spider seemed very similar to the one she'd seen on the back of the cape Reivzx wore on cold days. Micah looked up as Bultar entered.  
  
“Ah, Bultar. Have a seat, feeling okay?” he said.  
  
“Fine Master,” she mumbled, taking the nearest seat along with Caudle.  
  
“I'd rather if you didn't lie to our faces, Bultar,” said Master Reivzx, frowning.  
  
Bultar bit her lip, “Sorry, but I am feeling much better.”  
  
“Good to hear,” she replied and smiled warmly, “Now on with the briefing. I trust you know of the peace treaty between the Sith Empire and the Galactic Republic,” she paused and Bultar nodded.  
  
“Well, as per the terms of the treaty, there is an embargo between the Sith and the Republic. No trade, no open borders, no militaries barring defensive peacekeeping and no unofficial communication.”  
  
Bultar nodded again.  
  
“Well there are those on both sides of the border who disregard these terms; the Republic and the Sith are expected to deal with them. The Republic Security Organisation recently intercepted a series of encrypted transmissions from the Falleen system broadcasting into Sith Space. The RSO couldn't decrypt them but they were traced to the Chevaliers Estate. Your first solo mission is to find the person or persons responsible for these transmissions. Do not intervene, simply find and report.”  
  
“Do we have any idea who on the estate might have sent them?” Bultar asked.  
  
“None,” said Micah, “The estate employs some two thousand people. It could be any of them.”  
  
“Exactly,” added Reivzx, “most likely it's some stupid kid broadcasting pirate HoloNet to a friend across the border. We get this all the time.”  
  
“The owner of the estate is one Aerhart Antilles, aged nineteen,” said Micah and pressed a button on the table.  
  
A hologram sprang into life, depicting the head of a young Sith pure-blood who looked to be in her late teens to early twenties. Her face was rather masculine and chiselled, her skin was a deep crimson, her eyes orange and her jowls looked to be healthy and supple.  
  
“The Antilles family was assigned their name when they anonymously defected about six hundred years ago. Despite starting with effectively nothing they built up a sizeable fortune made from buying and renting out land. Nowadays, after the death of both Aerhart's parents two years ago, their only surviving heir controls almost sixteen square kilometres of land across four planets. The Chevaliers estate currently functions as her personal home and property management headquarters. Most of the grounds are devoted to tourism, exploiting the estates status as a historical building.”  
  
“So she's new at this then?” asked Bultar.  
  
“Yes,” said Reivzx, “She is young and inexperienced. Exactly the sort of person to slip illicit practices past; that said there's no reason she couldn't be involved and there's also no reason to assume that she is especially gullible.”  
  
“She takes a relatively laid back approach to running her business,” continued Micah, “which creates an opportunity for us. She is currently looking for a personal assistant. Given her management style, it's unlikely that this position would be especially taxing.”  
  
“So it's the perfect cover for me,” said Bultar.  
  
“Yes,” said Reivzx, “Your mission is pretty simple: we have got you an interview, you are to get the job and use it to track down who on the estate is behind these transmissions. Simple, right?”  
  
Bultar could scarcely believe what she was hearing, 'A long term assignment? On solid ground? I won't have to live on this station?'  
  
Then her face broke into a grin and she turned to Micah.  
  
“This was your idea wasn't it,” she said, trying – and utterly failing – to restrain her jubilation. Micah shrugged.  
  
“Well, I knew you didn't want to spend your days living up here so I asked Zourvux if she had anything long ter-” but he was cut short by Bultar's shoulder as she hopped out of her chair and pulled him into and fierce hug.  
  
“Thankyouthankyouthankyou.”  
  
Caudle snorted while Reivzx smiled to herself and stood.  
  
“Okay Caudle, could you give Bultar her check over please.”  
  
“Sure thing,” he replied and pried Bultar away from Micah.  
  
Sitting her on the table, he took a thermometer from his pocket.  
  
“Okay, say 'aah',” Bultar complied and Caudle stuck the thermometer in her mouth. He then took a miniscule torch and shone it in each of her eyes briefly, holding each eye open as he did.  
  
“Hmm, eyes focussing normally,” He then took a small hammer from another pocket and tapped her leg, causing a little twitch.  
  
“Reflex time fine.”  
  
He pulled the thermometer out and checked it.  
  
“Temp normal.”  
  
This went on like so for a few minutes, Caudle continuing to bring out some new instrument each time.  
  
“No parasites.”  
  
“No viruses.”  
  
“Hearing fine.”  
  
“Eyesight normal.”  
  
Eventually he seemed satisfied, only to draw out a tape measure and begin taking her measurements and making notes on a holopad that Bultar could have sworn he pulled out of nowhere. After that he did indeed stop probing her, only to ask questions about eating habits, exercise, her menstruation, how well she was sleeping and if she had exhibited any of various symptoms. After almost an hour of incessant Caudle, he eventually straightened up and pocketed all his paraphernalia again.  
  
“She's fine, a little space-nausea but that'll pass soon,” He pulled an array of variously coloured lollipops out of yet another pocket and offered them to Bultar. She hovered her fingers over the green one before eventually settling on a vivid yellow one, her grin returning.  
  
“Excellent,” said Reivzx, “You probably already know that we're heading to the Falleen system anyway, we'll be dropping you off when we arrive."  
  
“Sweet, I've always wanted to go to Falleen. So am I going to Falleen Throne, or is the estate somewhere else on the planet?” Bultar asked.  
  
“Oh, you're not going to the _planet_ Falleen,” said Reivzx, “You are off to the sixth planet in the Falleen system, Fwacide.”


	4. The Stark Hyperspace Dispute: Departure

**[The passageways of The Ouran, space above Coruscant, the Coruscant system]**  
  
“Hey Xiaan, A'Sharad; either of you seen Obi-Wan?” Padawan Aayla Secura, blue Twi'Lek girl who was known for 'challenging' the Jedi dress code, called down the passage after them. They both shrugged at her.  
  
“Nope, been training all morning,” said Xiaan.  
  
“Well if you see him, could you tell him he has a last minute mission and Master Jinn's waiting for him in hangar 5V?” she said before running off.  
  
“So, lunch?” asked A'Sharad, getting a nod from Xiaan as they continued down the passage. The door opened just before they came to it, revealing Masters Sifo-Dyas and Ranik Solusar in the middle of one of their famous 'discussions'.  
  
“Ranik I'm telling you; Bruck needs more support. He is struggling and you can't see it.”  
“I find his progress to be fine.”  
  
“He is still unable to grasp several essential principles of being a Jedi. I can't tell you the number of times he's come to me with questions that I simply can't help him understand the answers to, no matter how I word things.”  
  
“He never expressed such issues with me,”  
  
“You aren't exactly the most approachable person Ranik. And it's not just me; Sora, Kit, Jocasta, Ashka, Qui-Gon, Adi and Foul have all been sought out by him with the same problems and the same results. You need to have a long talk with your padawan or at least talk to The Dark Woman about it.”  
  
“I refuse to bring that child abuser into this,” A'Sharad's hand clenched at this, “I'll have him speak to Master Kcaj and if he can't help Bruck then I will talk to him myself.”  
  
“The Dark Woman is no child abuser, she simply-”  
  
“Um... Masters?” cut in Xiaan. They both turned to her, apparently only just noticing she and A'Sharad were even there.  
  
“Can we get past please?” said A'Sharad.  
  
“Oh, yes of course,” said Master Solusar – a short but muscled Rattataki with heavyset facial features, a permanently fierce expression, a bull-style nose ring and flowing, thick, lined tattoos on his face and cranium. They both moved aside to let Xiaan and A'Sharad pass.  
  
“So, I guess we're not supposed to talk about that,” said Xiaan when they were out of earshot.  
  
“Probably a good idea,” replied A'Sharad as they entered the kitchens.  
  
Agen had – as usual – tactically eaten when no-one else was around to rope him into cooking for them. The only evidence of his coming and going being the cleaned pans, plate and cutlery draining by the refresher. Xiaan and A'Sharad took plates from the nearest cupboard and walked up to K'Kruhk, who sat alone with a colossal platter of sandwiches.  
  
“Mind if we join you?” asked A'Sharad.  
  
“Sure, help yourself,” said K'Kruhk and they both took seats opposite him.  
  
“So where's Stass?” said Xiaan, loading up a generous pile of sandwiches onto her plate while A'Sharad settled for a neat little stack.  
  
“Deep meditation session with Master Kcaj,” said K'Kruhk, “Agen took her lunch a few minutes ago.”  
  
“Wonder how she's doing?” said Xiaan.  
  
“She talked to her father this morning, seemed much better after that.”

* * *

  
**[Hangar 5V, The Ouran]**  
  
“And where exactly were you?” asked Aayla as Obi-Wan finally dashed into the hangar. Masters Tholme, Qui-Gon Jinn and Jedi Knight Quinlan Vos all turned to look at them.  
  
“Room of a thousand fountains, but that doesn't matter now. What's the mission?”  
  
“Well, you and Qui-Gon are filling in for me in a negotiation,” said Tholme, “Aayla, you and Quinlan are with me to investigate that explosion on Thyferra.”  
  
“What are the negotiations about?” said Obi-Wan.  
  
“You'll get the details on the way but it's basically a dispute between the Trade Federation and some pirates who've been preying on them. You'll be alongside Masters Tyvokka, Koon and Gallia,” said Tholme as he turned towards one of the two shuttles in the hangar.  
  
“Hey Obi-Wan, have fun with Siri,” smirked Quinlan. Quinlan was a Kiffar Human, as evidenced by the yellow traditional tattoo running across his face over the top of his nose and his copious dreadlocks. Less traditional was his near-permanent five o'clock shadow.  
  
“Siri's coming too?”  
  
“Well yeah, you didn't think Master Gallia was gonna leave her behind did you?”

* * *

  
**[Observation decks, The Ouran]**  
  
_“Attention,”_ Master Che's voice rang out over the P.A. _“The Ouran will be entering hyperspace in five minutes. Anyone who wants one last look at Coruscant should do it now.”_  
  
There was already a small group of younglings, padawans and knights clustered around the balcony as K'Kruhk, Xiaan and A'Sharad stepped out onto it. Bultar was already there, leaning on the railing and gazing down at the planet through the Ouran's protective transparasteel.  
  
“Feeling better?” asked K'Kruhk as they walked over to her.  
  
“As long as I don't move,” came her terse reply.  
  
“So how'd your briefing go?” said Agen as he stepped beside them.  
  
“Pretty good, I'm off to Fwacide for a long term assignment undercover.”  
  
“Nice place,” said Xiaan, “I went there for a short mission once with J'Mikel, the city of Bastille in the Adamant Isles.”  
  
“I'm off to Thrace, the city of Los Mang Jagas specifically.”  
  
“Never went there, that's the planet's biggest city right?”  
  
“Yeah but I'm on the outskirts, not sure how much of it I'll see.”  
  
“If I'm remembering right it's supposed to have a giant defensive dome they can put up if attacked.”  
  
“I can't see! Could one of you move please?” K'Kruhk looked down to see a young Kel Dor trying to see between them. In one swift motion he scooped her up and perched her on his shoulder.  
  
“Better?” he asked.  
  
“Yeah, but you stink,” she replied tilting her head away from him.  
  
“Hah! Everyone says that when they meet me; you'll stop smelling it soon.”  
  
“Okay,” the girl said, not looking convinced.  
  
“So what's your name?”  
  
“Sha.”  
  
“I like it. Short, simple, easy to remember. I'm K'Kruhk.”  
  
_“Attention, entering hyperspace in one minute”_  
  
Stass sidled up behind them.  
  
“How you doing?” asked A'Sharad.  
  
“Better now. Don't worry about it.”  
  
“Why didn't you tell us?”  
  
“It wasn't your problem.”  
  
_“Thirty seconds.”_  
  
“Farewell Coruscant, can't say I'll miss you,” said Xiaan.  
  
_“Five, four, three, two, one. Entering hyperspace now.”_  
  
And suddenly the planet was gone in a blur of blue and white.

* * *

  
**[Halls of Learning, The Ouran]**  
  
“Okay class, settle down. Kai, stop staring out the window – you've seen hyperspace travel before,” Zourvux leaned against her desk waiting for the younglings to stop gawking out the window and settle into their seats. When no such action occurred she sighed and spoke to the ceiling.  
  
“Brig, could you be an absolute dear and darken the windows to this room please?”  
  
“Of course,” came a monotone voice and there was a collective groan as the blue vortex was blotted out.  
  
“Now then, if you wouldn't mind and be seated,” there was a little more groaning before the class eventually quieted down and took their seats.  
  
“Excellent. Now, picking up from last time; who can tell me a simple application of using the force?”  
  
A sea of hands shot up. Zourvux pointed at Jastus Farr.  
  
“Force-push?” he said.  
  
“Good. Yes, telekinesis is possibly _the_ classic application of The Force,” Zourvux summoned a datapad from her desk to her hand, then sent it back in demonstration, “Other simple uses include the mind-trick and split-second precognition. Now what about something more specialised? Can any of you tell me an advanced use of The Force?”  
  
Substantially fewer hands rose this time, “Knol,” Zourvux said, turning towards the Bothan at the back.  
  
Knol hesitated for a moment before eventually saying, “Fire.”  
  
“Very good. Generating or manipulating fire is a rarely used but nevertheless effective use of the force. It does however have drawbacks. Firstly, because it is specialised it takes a lot of practice and focussed meditation to use to any degree of success. Can anyone think of what the second drawback might be?” There was silence for a few seconds. Zourvux decided to give them a hint, “what happens if you set something on fire, then leave it?”#  
  
In the third row, Sian Jeisel's hand rose. Zourvux pointed at the fluffy, orange Devaronian.  
  
“It could spread... It could keep burning... It wouldn't be too hard to hurt yourself, or someone else.”  
  
“Exactly, you get first call on pudding tonight Sian.”  
  
“It's just Jeisel,” she muttered.  
  
“Oh, sorry; I keep doing that. Yes, fire spreads and burns. Pyrokinetics have harmed themselves, allies and bystanders in the past by making just such a mistake. Also, fire consumes oxygen, which can cause issues on a starship if your species happens to breathe the stuff. Now can anyone give me another specialised or advanced use of the force?” A few hands rose. Zourvux pointed this time at Tarr Seirr, a Cerean boy.  
  
“Telepathy?”  
  
“Indeed, a tricky skill to master and requires a lot of work to be put into it. But it is very useful. It does however come with some moral considerations. Is it acceptable to invade the mind of another? Potentially violating their privacy in the process? A serious question with no real consensus on the answer. Additionally, delving into one's memories and knowledge without consent is known to be very painful for the person who's mind is being read. Surface thoughts, as far as we can tell, have no such side effects if read without permission but the moral issue still exists. Telepathy can also be used to control the actions of others, communicate without being detected and alert the user to the presence of others,” she paused to let the ramifications of what she had just told the younglings sink in. She could almost _see_ the temptation, the ideas forming on the children's faces.  
  
Now it was time to drop the anvil.  
  
“But it has a large drawback. Attaining such skill in sensing and interacting with others causes the telepath to be more in tune with life. This is normally a benefit, however if people nearby are distressed, in pain or dying then problems occur. One cannot open oneself to others and not feel their feelings, their experiences. If someone nearby is angry, it can affect the telepath. If they are in pain, the telepath will feel at least some of that pain. If they die, then the telepath feels it. The most powerful telepaths of our order can sense it when large amounts of death occur, even at a distance. Some of them have even been rendered unconscious by a massacre on the other side of the galaxy. Telepathy works two ways. The larger the distubance, the further away it can be felt. The more powerful the telepath, the further they can feel such things. All Jedi sense and feel especially large events, no matter whether they have trained in telepathy or not. But it is dulled if they don't, less of an impediment. It may distract but it won't interfere.”  
  
The class looked decidedly horrified. Zourvux smiled slightly.  
  
“Not to worry, it isn't all doom and gloom. This connection to life means that whenever people are feeling happy, or uplifted, you will too. When triumphs occur, people rejoice, or lives are saved, telepaths find themselves in very good moods indeed. Every aspect of telepathy works both ways. Even non-telepathic Jedi will be affected when something especially good happens too, just as they would if an extreme atrocity had happened,” she waited a moment to let her monologue sink in before going any further.  
  
“So anyone else? Any other rare uses of The Force?” her smile was back in full force.  
  
Youngling Durnar's hand raised this time, “Psychometry?”  
  
“Ah yes, an extremely rare technique. While you know that The Force flows through all life, you may not know that life can and does leave an impression on non-living matter. Psychometry is the ability to read this impression – effectively sensing and seeing events that have taken place by touching the matter in question. This is always strictly from the point of view of whoever made the impression. Day-to-day activities rarely leave a strong impression; events significant to the person who made the impression do. It is useful to see what has happened but trying to see intentions or thought is inevitably skewed by the subject's point of view.”  
  
“But you could tell what someone was thinking at the time?” asked Ausar Auset, a Nikto boy.  
  
“Unlikely, it shows actions and feelings. Also, no-one has ever managed it on organic matter; so by all means try but don't be too disappointed if it doesn't work.”  
  
She got up and strode down one of the aisles between the desks.  
  
“So, any others?” there was only silence, “Come on... think a little. What about manipulating gravity?”  
  
“You can do that?” asked Kai.  
  
Zourvux smiled mysteriously, “It is possible, yes. How about severing one's sensitivity to The Force? Maybe holding back death itself? Teleportation? Or even time travel?”  
  
There was a long silence.  
  
Then Durnar said, “But... that's... those things are impossible.”  
  
“Most of them were once considered as such. They have all been done. The Force flows through everything. We can interact with The Force. Ergo nothing is 'impossible' through The Force, some things simply have no discovered method. The better question to ask is this: Just because something can be done, should it?”

* * *

  
**[Thyferra, the Polith system]**  
  
The Thyferran plant looked a mess. A bombed out ruin threatening to crumble at the slightest excuse as freshly growing vines, creepers and moss settled in to reclaim the space. Warning signs were plastered at every gate on the perimeter fence and the yard surrounding the building was silent except for the background chatter of the local insects.  
  
“Are those Hunter-Killer droids?” asked Aayla as she focussed on a glint in the view through the binoculars.  
  
“Let me see,” said Quinlan and she passed him the binoculars. He looked out at one of the smashed windows of the building from their vantage point atop a nightclub across the street, “Huh, yes.. yes they are.”  
  
“Now why would an industrial accident site need military grade combat units?” said Tholme, slyly.  
  
“Looks like Master Tyvokka may have been right on the money,” said Aayla, checking over her lightsabers.  
  
“Maybe, maybe not. We need an inside look.” replied Tholme, “Aayla, your force camouflage; can you use it on others as well as yourself?”  
  
“Yes, but I need to be touching them.”  
  
“Well, I think it is time we tested it in the field.”  
  
“Then let's go pay a surprise inspection,” said Quinlan with a slight grin.  
  
Aayla returned both her lightsabers to her belt and wrapped an arm around each of their shoulders. To an observer they would have appeared to simply fade away from existence.  
  
“Three, two, one.”  
  
They all jumped in tandem, The Force carrying them off the roof, across the street and just over the fence. One of the droids at the nearest window turned to regard the slight shift in the ground where they landed before returning to survey the nearest gate. They slowly walked to the blasted ruin that had once been the main entrance and entered the nearest room off the lobby. Here Aayla let go of them and they all faded back into view.  
  
“Nicely done,” whispered Quinlan, “Take a rest, we got it from here.”  
  
Aayla responded by quickly slumping against a fallen support pillar. Quinlan closed his eyes, knelt down and placed the palm of his hand on the floor. A confused frown quickly formed on his face.  
  
“Hmm, there was definitely an explosion here. The screaming, the death... people running... it was bad. But...”  
  
“But?” asked Tholme.  
  
“Something's not right... it's... faint.”  
  
“What does that mean?”  
  
“I'm not sure, it's almost as if this happened some time ago.”  
  
Tholme's brow furrowed. He crossed to the nearest wall and inspected the vines burrowing through it.  
  
“Look at this,” he said. Quinlan and Aayla got up and joined him as he held out a vine to them. It was thick, green and had been sliced short.  
  
“They're all like this. The jungle is quick to overtake the land, but this... this is too fast. See where it has been cut back. To make it seem shorter than it was.”  
  
“So, you're saying...”  
  
“Yes Aayla, whatever took place here did not happen the day before last. We're talking weeks, maybe even months.”  
  
_“Access to this site is restricted. Authorised personnel only. Intruders will be shot on sight.”_  
  
They all looked up to see one of the Hunter-Killer droids walking into the room and levelling an unnecessarily large weapon for a left arm at them.  
  
Quick as a flash, Aayla dived to one side to avoid it's first volley.  
  
Tholme reached out his hand and the droid was thrown into the lobby, firing shots off as it went.  
  
Quinlan ignited his green lightsaber and deflected the shots into the floor as he and Tholme dashed out to meet it.  
  
Suddenly it leapt up, pointing it's blaster arm at Tholme's head.  
  
He quickly ducked under and stepped behind it.  
  
Quinlan dived over the droid as it attempted to shoot him instead, His cloak catching on it's head.  
  
Tholme ignited his own green lightsaber beside the droid's knees and severed them.  
  
It toppled over - still firing incessantly in an arc as it fell. Quinlan made to turn off his lightsaber but the droid began to point it's arm downwards at them, still shooting.  
  
Both Jedi plunged their lightsabers into it's chest. It stopped, falling limp and left only silence.  
  
“We should leave,” said Tholme, “The droid will have alerted others even if the firefight didn't. We've learned all we can.”  
  
“Yeah but where did Aayla go?” asked Quinlan, looking around in confusion.  
  
His question was answered by the hum of an engine and their air-speeder ploughed through the gates and pulled up by the entrance.  
  
“So we're leaving right?” Aayla called from the driver's seat.

* * *

  
**[Troiken's capital, the Qotile system]**  
  
Iaco Stark threw open the double doors with as much melodrama as possible and sauntered into the meeting hall, flanked on either side by four representatives from the four largest galactic crime organisations in addition to several scantily clad men and women of varying species. He looked, quite simply, like a complete douche. Mostly due to his cocky expression and the way he held himself. His yellow trench-coat billowed about him as he strode toward the heavy, wooden table between both parties and flicked his ginger hair in a thoroughly pretentious fashion.  
  
“Well this _is_ going to be interesting,” he said as he surveyed the six Jedi, Valorum and Gunray. He turned and gestured to the four flanking him, “These are my co-directors – Trodos, representing The Hutt Cartel, I can only imagine that the Hutts themselves found the journey too tiresome a prospect,” He indicated a massive Gamorrean with an equally massive war-axe, “Boor-Daa from Black Sun,” he gestured to a grumpy-looking Nikto, “Tam Gozon from The Exchange,” a lanky Arcona, “and Lom Portom from Sennex,” an Advozse who was barely peering over the table, “I'm afraid I can't remember the others' names but they're irrelevant. Eye candy, if you will.”  
  
He took his seat opposite Tyvokka, “You will tell me your demands, I will tell you my demands, we will seem to be in an endless deadlock, then I will tell you how this _will_ be resolved.”  
  
Siri however was distracted by a sudden sensation. A feeling. Danger. Nearby at that. She ever so slightly nudged Adi's foot with her own. Adi inclined her head marginally towards Siri. She tapped a finger on the wooden conference table - a sequence of taps at that.  
  
It was Mon Calamari blink code.  
  
[What?]  
  
[Danger,] Siri tapped back.  
  
Her senses, as it would happen, were correct. For Gunray had just pressed a hidden button in his mechno-chair's armrest, sending a direct signal to Tarkin.

* * *

  
**[The Invincible, space above Eriadu, the Eriadu system]**  
  
Jace Dallin, personal aide to Ranulph Tarkin, looked up at the console as it beeped. He was a well-built but young man with short dark hair, olive skin and a smooth face. He was twenty two.  
  
“General Tarkin, we have received the signal from the Neimodian.”  
  
“Excellent,” came Tarkin's reply, “order the fleet into hyperspace. When we arrive, we will turn that conference into a smouldering pile.”  
  
Jace's brow furrowed, “What about the senator? And the Jedi?”  
  
“Irrelevant, Valorum's a fool the galaxy will do better without. As for the Jedi, it is their job to die for the greater good if necessary. The council will just have to find new occupants for their seats. In any case two of them aren't even human.”  
  
The engines of the consular-class assault cruiser _Invincible_ roared into life accompanied by those of almost six hundred cruisers, painted in Galactic Republic red and white. Jace recalled that General Tarkin had wanted star-destroyers but had been unable to find a way to build them unnoticed, settling instead for light assault cruisers.  
  
Then in a swirl of blue the fleet shot into hyperspace proudly.  
  
Towards disaster.

* * *

  
**[Troiken's capital]**  
  
“I'm afraid that none of my entourage speak whatever it is Wookiees speak but we are all wearing earpieces linked to a translation droid,” Stark drawled on.  
  
<If it's all the same to you, could we cut out the politicking and proceed directly to this resolution you seem so assured of?> said Tyvokka.  
  
“You know,” said Stark, scratching his chin, “That does sound like a good idea. Okay boys and girls, you heard him.”  
  
Suddenly a lot of weaponry was pointed at the Republic party. Obi-Wan reached for his lightsaber but Qui-Gon put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head.  
  
“Follow Master Tyvokka's lead, Padawan.” he muttered.  
  
“Most dangerous 'eye-candy' I've ever seen,” said Siri, “Seriously, where'd they even hide those? It's not like they had a lot of clothes to hide anything in.”  
  
“That's enough, Siri,” said Adi, her eyes darting around the room.  
  
“What is this?” demanded Valorum.  
  
“This, senator, is a trap. It is a fairly rudimentary concept; a situation in which people lie in wait to make a surprise attack. It was originally for my combine but I've decided to change a few things,” Stark said as he stood. One of the so-called-eye-candy stepped forward with five glasses filled with water and placed them on the table.  
  
“As we speak, the Republic Army and Navy is travelling through hyperspace towards this meeting-”  
  
“The Republic has no offensive army or navy,” said Valorum.  
  
“There is a fleet of ships identifying itself as such headed here right now. Fact. Did you think I would be unaware of this? I head the largest criminal syndicate in the galaxy, my spies are everywhere. This 'summit' is a sham. Bait.”  
  
Valorum stared blankly for a moment, completely unable to formulate a response. And then.  
  
“TARKIN! Stark I assure you, his actions are not those of the Republic's. We had no knowledge of his plan.”  
  
“One of you must have. The signal to attack came from this chamber,” said Stark.  
  
There was a moments pause before everyone slowly turned to look at Gunray.  
  
“I admit nothing,” he blustered.  
  
“It doesn't matter anyway. Here's why: we expected this. We created a navicomputer virus, which we piggybacked on that signal. All ships' navicomputers across known space – barring our own of course – have been infected. The only exception is for ships already in hyperspace; quantum mechanics get in the way of the signal. The navicomputers are, put simply, fucked. Without an accurate navicomputer, a percentage of the ships will exit hyperspace into, oh I don't know,” Stark picked up one of the glasses, “a planet?”  
  
He dropped the glass onto the floor where it shattered.  
  
“Or a star?”  
  
He levelled a disruptor pistol at another glass and shot it, completely vaporising it.  
  
Suddenly Plo leaned forward, a hand on his head.  
  
“Death, thousands. Thousands are dying,” he forced out when he had stabilised himself against the table. A saddened look was creeping onto Adi's face as her eyes momentarily lost focus, Qui-Gon flinched, Tyvokka twitched slightly but Obi-Wan and Siri were unaffected.  
  
“Maybe even the gaping maw of a black hole?” continued Stark.  
  
He nodded to Trodos, who picked up a third glass and crushed it in his hand.  
  
“A large number will emerge safely but in entirely the wrong location. They could attempt to jump again but their odds would be bad,” He slid the fourth glass to one end of the table.  
  
“And of course, by sheer fortune, a small number will actually make it here,” Stark continued as he slid the final glass across the table in front of Tyvokka, Gunray and Valorum as the Jedi recovered from their upheaval, “But they will find that they have been expected and massively outnumbered by the Combine's forces. They will be destroyed, their fate is sealed. Now here is the resolution: You – and by extension the Republic – are going to unconditionally surrender to us and acquiesce _all_ of our demands. Unless you would rather die?”  
  
“Stark. I assure you that the Republic knew nothing of this fleet-”  
  
<Do not waste your breath, senator,> Tyvokka cut across Valorum, <Tarkin is simply Stark's _excuse_ ; this has been planned for a long time. The virus _had_ to have already been created, they _had_ to cripple rival space travel, they _had_ to have a reason. This is not about Tarkin, the Trade Federation or these negotiations. This isn't even about the bacta. Stark has been waiting for an excuse to goad someone into attacking him for some time; this was a trap from the beginning, > He leaned forward onto his palms, which were resting on the edge of the table.  
  
“Indeed,” said Stark, “very astute Master Jedi. Of course it doesn't change anything. You will surrender, or you will die. The is no other choice.”  
  
<There is _always_ another choice, > said Tyvokka.  
  
And upended the table in Stark's face.


	5. The Stark Hyperspace War: Another Choice

**[High council chamber, The Ouran, orbiting Falleen, the Falleen system]**

Master Eeth Koth was in the council chamber when a blinking light on his chair indicated an incoming transmission. He pressed a button by the light and a hologram of Master Shaak Ti sprang into life. She was a tall, red-skinned Togruta with white markings. Her long robes extended past the view of the projection.  
  
“Shaak. You've already landed?” his dignified voice echoed in the empty room.  
  
“Yes,” she said, “but there's a... problem. How can I put this?” she paused for a moment, “I am on Vulpter.”  
  
“Excuse me? Vulpter?” he said, confused, “What happened to Skako?”  
  
“No idea, something must have gone wrong with the navicomputer. I am stuck here until the mechanics can overhaul it.”  
  
“I see, thank you for telling me, we'll have to send someone else to Skako.”  
  
The holoprejector switched off and Eeth sat back, thinking.  
  
Then the doors opened and Master Kazdan Paratus scuttled in at breakneck speed.  
  
“Only you here Master Koth?” he asked. Eeth nodded, “Well we have a serious problem; I just finished my inspection of our transit shuttles. All their navicomputers were ruined.”  
  
“Yes, I just got a message from Master Ti; she's on Vulpter instead of Skako.”  
  
“Then she is very lucky. The algorithms in the navicomputers are a complete mess, all except one: the algorithm that avoids objects in the flightpath. That algorithm had several parameters reversed. The navicomputers now try to actively _hit_ objects in the flightpath. And no, before you ask, this cannot have been an accident.”  
  
Eeth's eyes widened, “I'll assemble the council.”  
  
“That's not all, I ran a diagnostic on every vehicle we have. It's not just the shuttles, everything with a hyperdrive navicomputer is affected. This could be everywhere, you need to send out an emergency warning on all channels.”

* * *

  
**[Troiken's capital]**  
  
Tyvokka held the table firm as Stark's 'eye candy' unloaded shots into it and the Jedi crowded behind it.  
  
<Obi-Wan, protect Gunray. Qui-Gon, Siri, keep them off me. Adi, prot->  
  
“Already on it,” she called as she dived out from the table. She landed in front of Valorum, drawing her crimson blade in the process. She held it reverse-ways, along her arm and began to deflect the shots now diverting towards her with great swooping motions.  
  
<Plo, with me,> Tyvokka continued as he ploughed forward, still holding the table, ramming it into Boor-Daa.  
  
“Nothing unnecessary Obi-Wan,” reminded Qui-Gon as he flanked around the table and ignited his own green sabre. Siri went round the other side and they both began to hack their way through the edges of the attacking formation. Before long though, they had to fall back under the the sheer volume of blaster shots.  
  
“Yes of course, I'll just hang back with this guy. Don't mind me,” grumbled Obi-Wan and glared at Gunray.  
  
“Thank you for keeping me safe, O brave and gener-”  
  
“Shut up”  
  
“Ah, fucking hell there's glass in my face! GETITOFFGETITOFF!” was the only intelligible thing Stark was able to say as he struggled to pick himself off the floor.  
  
<Hey, watch this!> Tyvokka smiled at Obi-Wan and suddenly the table – solid wood all the way through – splintered into a thousand pieces just as Stark got to his feet. He was very shortly on the floor again, joined by Boor-Daa and several of the 'eye candy' as fragments of table sprayed their half of the room. Quick as a flash, Tyvokka pulled out the curved, wooden hilt of his lightsaber and ignited it's yellow blade through Tam Gozon's blaster. Gozon proceeded to take the intelligent choice of hasty retreat. Plo's orange lightsaber joined the deflection frenzy. By now most of Stark's 'eye candy' had taken cover behind furniture and the doorway where it was much harder to hit them with rebound shots.  
  
The Jedi quickly formed a barrier between Stark's troops and Valorum and Gunray, slowly advancing. Lom Porton had already left the room and Trodos was busy picking up Stark and Boor-Daa. Regardless, the number of entrenched attackers left the Jedi resigned to a long slog of a battle.  
  
“Gunray, your security droids,” shouted Qui-Gon.  
  
“What of them?” he yelled back.  
  
“Can you summon them to assist us?”  
  
“Oh, right. Of course, of course...” he pressed a button on the mechno-chair, “They are coming now.”  
  
Siri suddenly had a bad feeling. A very bad feeling.  
  
Suddenly there was a great crashing sound as three hunter-killer droids broke through the wall behind Gunray... and did nothing more.  
  
“Would you kindly order them to assist?” grunted Plo as a contingent of heavily armed soldiers ran in and joined the 'eye candy' in hammering against the Jedi's wall of lightsabers.  
  
Siri froze, nearly paying for her carelessness as a shot barely missed her face.  
  
“Uh, right... yes. Droids, kill them!”  
  
The droids levelled their blaster arms at the nearest target. Which due to Gunray's total lack of precision was Tyvokka. Or at least where he had been, as he was suddenly shunted to one side due to Siri's attempt at tackling him out of the way. The shots meant for Tyvokka instead flew across the room and mowed down a large group of Stark's troops. They narrowly missed Trodos as he ducked out of the room with Stark and Boor-Daa on each shoulder. The droids attempted to re-target Tyvokka but Adi and Qui-Gon quickly ducked behind Plo and used the force to lift the droids up and throw them over their heads, across the room.  
  
“Give me a moment,” Adi called out as she turned off her lightsaber and assumed her opening stance, electricity beginning to dance around her fingers. The electricity grew and cascaded across her hands, building in intensity and brightness, becoming more and more frantic until:  
  
“MOVE!”  
  
Plo casually stepped aside and lightning flew from Adi's hands, across the room and struck one of the droids' fuel cells. The resulting explosion wasn't as impressive as Siri was hoping for but it certainly cleared out most of Stark's forces. She and Tyvokka quickly ran across the room, deflecting shots from the few remaining troops and 'eye candy'. She hopped over an upturned chair, burying her lightsaber in the head of a Gran before swiftly removing the right arm of a Trandoshan in a flash of purple. She looked around the room to find Tyvokka advancing on a quivering Nikto. She was barely more than a child. Behind Tyvokka was a line of destroyed blasters and unconscious thugs.  
  
The Nikto struggled to keep her blaster steady as she backed into a corner, Tyvokka closing in on her. Suddenly the tip of her blaster was gone in a flash of yellow.  
Then another segment was gone, then another. After Tyvokka's fourth strike, there was little more than the handle left. Dropping the useless remains, she cowered before Tyvokka, who grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and hoisted her up to his face.  
  
<THIS! IS WHAT! YOU GET! FOR FUCKING! AROUND WITH PIRATES!> He yelled in her face, <GO HOME TO YOUR PARENTS!> He dropped her and she ran out the door in tears as fast as her legs could carry her. Tyvokka then turned to Siri, <Thank you, Padawan Tachi. You may not realise it, but you saved my life just now.>  
  
“Um, don't mention it,” she replied, “Um... is that girl gonna be okay?”  
  
<She'll be fine. Something tells me she doesn't think pirates are cool anymore.>  
  
They returned to Gunray, Valorum and the other Jedi.  
  
<We need to leave, before they decide to bomb us from orbit.>  
  
Plo nodded, “Very well.”  
  
“One thing first,” Siri turned to Gunray and punched him in the face, “You sir, are a bastard.”  
  
“SIRI!” shouted Adi.  
  
“Oh come on Master! Look me in the eye and tell me he didn't deserve that!”  
  
“Be that as it may, Jedi are expected to exhibit _self control_. We'll be talking about this later.”  
  
“Enough,” said Plo, “We _need_ to leave.”  
  
They ran off, Gunray's mechno-chair bringing up the rear... where it began to fall behind, forcing them to stop for him.  
  
“Leave the chair Gunray,” said Qui-Gon.  
  
“But-”  
  
“Despite all your cowardice and duplicity has cost us today, we _will_ protect you,” Snapped Qui-Gon, rounding on Gunray, “But you listen to me right now: You _will_ be silent, you _will_ follow our instructions to the letter. If you do not, we _will_ leave you behind. Your life is insignificant compared to what is at stake here.”  
  
“But my chair-”  
  
“GET UP AND WALK,” shouted Adi from down the corridor.  
  
<We need to communicate with Tarkin's remaining space forces; they may be our best hope of victory over Stark. If nothing else we can help to reduce the casualties.> said Tyvokka as they ran across the building towards their ship.

* * *

  
**[The Invincible, space above Troiken]**  
  
“General, enemy fighters are raking us to port, our hangars are destroyed and three cruisers are bearing down on us! What are your orders?”  
  
Tarkin had frozen, staring out at the devastation.  
  
“Orders sir?” said Jace.  
  
Tarkin didn't move.  
  
“Sir?”  
  
Still nothing.  
  
“General Tarkin?”  
  
“I heard you, Dallin,” Tarkin finally responded, as yet another of his cruisers plummeted from the sky trailing smoke “How much of our fleet remains?”  
  
“Maybe an eighth of our fleet, less with each passing moment,” said Jace.  
  
“Keep them off us, I need a moment to think.”  
  
“General,” called one of the bridge crew, “receiving a message from Senator Valorum.”  
  
“On the projector,” said Tarkin.  
  
Valorum's decidedly displeased face flickered into view, accompanied by Tyvokka's.  
  
“Ranulph, we will discuss your monumental lapse in judgement later. Right now we need to consolidate our forces,” said Valorum, “Troiken is a planet of extreme temperature variation, broiling heat where the sun falls, and extreme cold where it doesn't. There is an inhabitable strip at the equator, we are sending you co-ordinates of an abandoned spice mine in Mount Avos in the Hormick Range. You can land on the Lycinder Plain by the mountain, then retreat into it. Avos can be held and fortified until help arrives-”  
  
“This is _MY_ command Valorum, not yours, _MINE_!” said Tarkin, “ _I_ give the orders here.”  
  
There was a large explosion that rocked the whole ship. Alarms blared and all the fire-suppression systems sprang into life as emergency reports sounded over the comm.  
  
“General, our shields are failing,” said one of the pilots, “We're beginning to lose orbit!”  
  
<It seems, _Senator_ , that the decision has been made for you.> said Tyvokka.  
  
Then the signal cut out.  
  
There was a short silence.  
  
“Do it,” Tarkin quietly said to Jace.  
  
“Yes sir,” Jace let out a breath he'd been holding for longer than he realised and hit the P.A. button, _“All hands to the escape pods, fighters and non-troop craft circle around and protect the pods at all costs.”_  
  
“Do not evacuate until all escape pods are safely away,” Tarkin said to his bridge crew, “Am I made clear?”  
  
“Yes sir,” they said in unison.  
  
“Dallin, with me,” said Tarkin as he left the bridge, “Is my shuttle prepared?”  
  
“The hangars are destroyed, General. You will need to take an escape pod or the life pod,” said Jace.  
  
“Life pod,” said Tarkin instantly, “It is smaller and will be a harder target. In any case the enemy will focus on the escape pods.”

* * *

  
**[diplomatic landing pads, Troiken's capital]**  
  
<Do you think Tarkin will heed our advice?> Tyvokka asked Valorum as the latter leaned back in his seat and massaged his temples.  
  
“I don't know, Tarkin is not a _reasonable_ person at the best of times. I do not know if he is willing or even _able_ meet us now” came his reply. Adi put a hand on his shoulder.  
  
“We cannot control what others do. Ranulph is responsible for himself and his crew. We can only take responsibility for our own safety at present, Finis,” She turned back to the ship controls, as Gunray rose from his seat.  
  
“I _insist_ that we use my ship,” he said, pointing out the cockpit window at the Trade Federation Shuttle on the other side of the landing pad, “I have many more droids on my ship.”  
  
“That is actually a good idea,” said Plo, “providing you give them proper parameters on who is the enemy this time.”  
  
Then Gunray's ship exploded under a barrage of heavy fire.  
  
“Well so much for that plan,” Siri said.  
  
“Dammit, they know we're here,” said Adi as she fired the engines to full power and activated the shields, “Hold on tight, this is going to be a rough flight; damage report says we took a hit in the barrage. We're down one engine.”  
  
The consular-class diplomatic cruiser flew out of the dock leaning sightly to one side and trailing fire out of an engine. Another barrage was sent in their direction but wasn't able to penetrate the shields as a gunship flew into view.  
  
“I'm guessing that's what blew up Gunray's shuttle,” said Qui-Gon.  
  
<Can we outrun them?> Tyvokka asked Adi.  
  
“Not with one busted engine,” came her reply, “No weapons either, diplomatic vessel.”  
  
<Do what you can,> he said, <We _have_ to reach Avos. >  
  
“I have one idea...” said Plo, “Can you bolster me with the force please?”  
  
“Siri, take over,” said Adi. Siri sat in the second pilot seat and took the controls as Adi rose to join Qui-Gon and Tyvokka in linking hands with Plo.  
  
They all closed their eyes.

* * *

  
“I have a lock on the ship and it's shields are failing; It'll be dust any second,” The pilot of the gunship smirked as he fired another volley at the cruiser. Then suddenly things went drastically wrong. The sky above him was filled with starfighters streaking down towards him, “What th- WHERE'D ALL THESE FIGHTERS COME FROM?”  
  
_“Repeat, Blue-9. Did you say ships? What ships?”_  
  
“They're everywhere, I have to eject!”  
  
_“Negative Blue-9, do not abandon ship. Repeat, do no- Oh for the love of...”_

* * *

  
The cockpit of the gunship blasted away, causing the gunship to spiral into the ground below with a great crunch.  
  
“That was... That was incredible!” said Obi-Wan, “How? How did you?”  
  
“The power of The Force,” smirked Plo, “ _never_ underestimate it.”  
  
Adi returned to piloting as the ship juddered off into the horizon.  
  
Siri left the second pilot seat and moved to sit next to Obi-Wan. Then something tugged at her; there was something she'd been meaning to ask him for some time now, “Obi, why... why did you choose to stay?”  
  
“With the Order?” he looked up at her, slightly puzzled.  
  
“No, on... Melida/Daan.”  
  
Obi-Wan paused for a while before answering, “I... they needed me, I wasn't going to abandon my friends.”  
  
Siri's brow furrowed, “What about Master Tahl? Weren't you abandoning her?”  
  
“Qui-Gon was there too. He wouldn't have let anything happen to her,” Obi-Wan wasn't looking at her anymore.  
  
“And what about the Order? Bant? Reeft? Garen? Quin? Me? Are _we_ not your friends? You turned your back on us. Do we mean so little to you?”  
  
“Of course n-”  
  
“Then why didn't we even get a message from you?”  
  
“You wouldn't und-”  
  
“No. You're right, I don't understand.”  
  
There was a long silence, filled only by the hum of the engines and the background conversations of the others.  
  
“I thought I hated you at first.” said Siri, “Did I ever tell you that?” Obi-Wan shook his head, “As far as I was concerned you were an embarrassment to the order, took me a while to realise that wasn't true. Then you were back and it was business as usual.. as if nothing had happened... I don't know if I'll ever understand why you did it but... I missed you, Obi.”  
  
“I'm sorry.”  
  
Siri sighed, “Don't be. I'm just glad you're back. Can't believe it took me five months to say it,” Obi-Wan smiled at that. They fell into a comfortable silence... which eventually turned a little uncomfortable.  
  
'Come on,' Siri thought, 'Say something, do something. This shouldn't be so hard,' If only he'd start the conversation; that'd be much easier.  
  
“Hey Siri,” said Obi-Wan, “I thought Gunray deserved it.”  
  
She gave him a massive grin.

* * *

  
“WHAT'S THE POINT IN MANUFACTURING A BACTA SHORTAGE IF STARK'S COMBINE STOPS US CASHING IN ON IT?” roared Xucphra Chairman Adol Bel. He was a rather large fellow and was suffering greatly in the climate. his current tantrum wasn't helping him much either.  
  
“The plan was sound, you cannot blame the Trade Federation for that pirate's actions,” replied Viceroy Hask of the Trade Federation, a prim, proper and dignified Neimoidian.  
  
“Not the Trade Federation, Hask. We both know this was exclusively your little retirement fund, yet for some reason me and my company are stuck with shit-loads of alazhi we can't even shift,” said Bel.  
  
“Profanity, how dignified,” Hask curled his lip in disapproval.  
  
“Hask do you even realise that if word gets out about our scheme, the galaxy is going to blame this hyperspace war on _us_?” Bel slammed his fist on the table.  
  
“Do I need to point out that keeping suspicion about the plant down is your responsibility? Yet I heard Jedi broke in to it,” said Hask, trying to wave in a breeze from the open window to fight off the humid Thyferran air.  
  
Bel grinned, “You don't need to worry about Jedi, you aren't the only ones with Hunter Killer droids. Very reliable, you give them an order and they carry it out exactly. The best part is that droids can't fall prey to those little mind tricks Jedi like to play.”  
  
“No, they can just be thrown around, chopped up or tampered with,” said Hask.  
  
“Mark my words, those Jedi aren't getting off-planet alive. Even better news is that one of our freighters got a new navicomputer mere minutes _after_ Stark's little navicomputer stunt; it's not much but we can at least get one shipment out.”  
  
Outside on the window ledge, Tholme grinned as he pressed 'Stop' on the recording device.

* * *

  
**[near The Xucphra Tower,Thyferra, the Polith system]**  
  
“So, how d'you think he'll spy on them?” asked Aayla.  
  
“Probably from the window.”  
  
“But that's ninety six stories up!”  
  
“Wouldn't stop him,” Quinlan said with a small smile as he crouched monkey-like on the front seat of the air-speeder, surveying Xucphra Corporation's Thyferran headquarters through the binoculars.  
  
“He'd just hide in corridor, Force-camouflage would make it easy,” countered Aayla.  
  
“No, he'd go for the windowsill, he would use Force-camo though,” Suddenly Quinlan straightened up, “He's on the windowsill, he just de-cloaked!”  
  
“What?” asked Aayla.  
  
Suddenly alarms blared from the tower and flying sentry droids zoomed to the speck that was Tholme.  
  
“Oh my kriff, he just jumped off!” Quinlan siezed the controls as the binoculars fell into the cityscape. He put the vehicle into a sudden dive, Aayla holding on for dear life.  
  
In a matter of seconds he was under Tholme and began to slowly lower his speed, slowly catching Tholme without splatting him like a bug. It was stressful under blaster-fire, but eventually he was safely in the rear seats. Aayla ignited her lightsabers - one blue, one green. She began to deflect the blaster-fire coming from the sentry droids as they sped off across the city, with the droids in hot pursuit.  
  
“Okay, what the shit was that?” demanded Quinlan.  
  
“I knew you would catch me. And I certainly wasn't climbing all the way down again”  
  
“I am moved by your faith in me master, but I would much rather you gave me some more warning next time.”  
  
Tholme snorted, “You presume much Quinlan. I place my trust in The Force _first_ and you _second_.”  
  
Aayla had destroyed a few of the droids by deflecting their shots, but more were joining the pursuit now.  
  
“Well Master, place your trust in me _now_ please,” said Quinlan and dived towards the entrance to a sewer tunnel.  
  
“You're not serious,” said Tholme.  
  
“What's he doing?” asked Aayla as she continued to deflect blaster-fire.  
  
“He's taking us into a sewer.”  
  
“I want a new master,” she grumbled.  
  
“ **Trust** , remember,” Quinlan said in a sing song voice as they entered the dark cylindrical tunnel, the only light coming from the tunnel's opening, the speeder's lights and manhole covers overhead.  
  
“TUNNEL GRINDER!” shouted Tholme as he pointed at the gigantic mechanical cleaner that suddenly lurked into view filling the tunnel ahead as it scoured the tunnel of debris with is razor sharp blades. All three of them leapt out of the air-speeder just before it careened into the grinder and was mashed into scrap.  
  
“And that's why we don't drive in sewers,” said Tholme acidly.  
  
“Master,” Aayla asked Quinlan, “Tell me. You wouldn't happen to be testing my faith in you would you?”  
  
“Er, no Aayla... this is just... a complete and utter mistake,” said Quinlan looking disgruntled. They were now pinned between the rapidly approaching grinder and the remaining droids.  
  
“Master, the grinder!” said Aayla.  
  
“ _Focus_ , Aayla,” said Tholme, “You and Quinlan Force-push with me. **NOW**!”  
  
They pushed their hands out with all their might as the droids were thrown into the tunnel ceiling and crushed against it.  
  
“Come on,” he said and they ran for the entrance of the tunnel, the grinder snapping at their heels. Suddenly more droids flocked in through the entrance.  
  
“They've pinpointed our location,” said Quinlan, “and this grinder doesn't leave us much room to use.”  
  
Tholme smiled devilishly, “Then we make that work for us, follow my lead.”  
  
He Force-jumped up to the ceiling and grabbed a manhole cover, using The Force to push it free and climbed up.  
  
“You first,” Quinlan said to Aayla. The grinder was now almost on them, tearing up moss, roots, excrement and who knew what else. To make matters worse, the droids were getting more accurate with their shots.  
  
“But-”  
  
“Go!”  
  
She jumped, up and out the manhole.  
  
Quinlan leapt immediately after her, narrowly evading the grinder as it tore the hem of his cloak. The droids attempted to pursue, but found their path blocked by the grinder. It mangled them like crisps in a food processor.  
  
Quinlan shot out of the manhole onto the pavement.  
  
“And now, they think we're dead,” said Tholme, “We have what we need, all we need to do is get off-planet. Of course that would be easier if we didn't stink of _sewer_ ,” He levelled a piercing gaze at Quinlan.  
  
“Master Jinn says that Jedi shouldn't place too much importance on one's appearance, but should focus more on who they _are_ ,” said Quinlan with a smile.  
  
“Contrary to Qui-Gon's opinion, his every word is not gold dust,” Tholme retorted, "He looks and smells like a bantha for goodness sake..."  
  
“Yeah Master, if Master Jinn's right why don't you just take this? go ahead and rub your face all over it,” said Aayla with a wrinkled nose as she shook something that looked suspiciously like faeces off her cloak sleeve.  
  
“Very well, oh wise and noble one,” said Quinlan, bowing to Tholme.  
  
“In any case Quinlan, your first priority should be to check if your Padawan is alright – not to make smarmy quips. Now stop smirking; we need to get to the space port. Some sort of sabotage has happened to _all_ navicomputers except for one on a Xucphra ship that just got overhauled. They're going to use that ship to transport some alazhi out of system for bacta processing. We need to be on that ship.”


	6. The Stark Hyperspace War: The Siege At Mount Avos

 

 

**[The Lycinder Plain, Troiken, the Qotile system]**

Cannon fire rained down on Tarkin's troops as they dashed from the escape pods to the caves of mount Avos lugging weapons, supplies and anything else they could carry from the pods across the Lycinder Plain – which had swiftly turned to a mud pit under the sustained bombardment – to their rocky sanctuary.

  
“Damn Finis!” snarled Tarkin as he and Jace took refuge behind one of the escape pods until the attack run had passed, “This plain is a death trap, we should have stayed aboard the Invincible.”  
  
Suddenly a fiery streak shot across the night sky and buried itself in the horizon, “What was that?” Tarkin asked.  
  
“I'd say it was the Invincible,” said Jace bitterly.  
  
Then a diplomatic cruiser flew overhead and came to hover just above their position.

* * *

  
**[Aboard the diplomatic cruiser]**  
  
“Right, we need to get off this ship right now,” said Adi as she set the ship to hover and got up, “I won't even try landing, the ship is in a really bad condition.”  
  
“Where's Tyvokka?” asked Obi-Wan.  
  
“Medical bay,” said Plo, “He's gathering the entire stock of bacta and medical implements. The troops will probably need them.”  
  
Adi hit the P.A., _“Tyvokka, finish up. We need to leave now.”_  
  
With that they ran to the airlock, unsealed it and jumped out onto the muddy plain.  
  
“Get down!” shouted Qui-Gon and threw Gunray to the ground as another attack run soared overhead raining shots down on their position.  
  
“Tyvokka! Hurry up!” shouted Adi at the ship.  
  
“I'm communicating with him now,” said Plo, “He's almost to the airlock.”  
  
Then Tyvokka almost flew into view carrying two large cases like they weighed nothing as he sprinted towards the airlock even as cannon fire began to strike the hull and error alerts began sounding.  
  
_“Error, hyperdrive activated. Sealing all airlocks. Emergency safety protocols enacted.”_  
  
Time seemed to slow to a crawl as both airlock doors began to slide shut. Tyvokka dived for the exit, passing the inner door.  
  
He wasn't going to make it.  
  
In mid-air he threw the cases past the outer door, into the mud, just before it slammed closed.  
  
He was trapped in the ship.  
  
In another second the ship was gone, blasting into hyperspace to parts unknown.  
  
To Plo, as he stared at where the ship had just been, everything seemed to have gone deadly silent.  
  
“Tyvokka...”  
  
Adi placed an arm around his shoulders, “There is nothing we can do for him at the moment. If he is alive we will try and find him later, but right now he would want us to sort this mess out.”  
  
Plo shook himself, “Agreed,” then he turned to the other Jedi, “The medical supplies Tyvokka got. Grab them before another attack comes!”  
  
Obi-Wan and Siri summoned a case each with the force and dashed into the caves, the cases floating behind them.  
  
Plo next turned to Valorum and Tarkin, who were in a heated argument.  
  
“Both of you, enough. Further discussion should wait until the safety of the caves.”  
  
Several treks of ferrying supplies and evading gunship assaults later they, along with a little under a thousand troops, were cloistered in the caves. Emergency portable lighting had been set up and Jace was finishing his inventory; while the Jedi along with the senators and Gunray were gathered around in a circle sitting on empty crates, discussing their next move.  
  
“The caves have an extensive water supply, we have food stores to last ten days and Master Tyvokka's medical supplies, bacta and implements. Ammunition wise, we have enough to last us a month and a reasonable stock of heavy ordnance.”  
  
The caves shook as yet another bombardment sounded from outside the caves.  
  
“This is patently hopeless,” said Gunray, “Our best chance at survival is to surrender now, while we still can.”  
  
“I can't believe I'm saying this but I concur,” said Tarkin sourly, “Stark has already won, there is no point in fighting any longer.”  
  
Valorum frowned, “Don't be absurd, our defensive position nullifies the problem of us being outnumbered and the mountain shields us from the bombardment.”  
  
“More importantly, Stark is not prepared for a long term battle to drag on. He is finding it hard to keep his collective intact,” said Plo, who had not said a word thus far.  
  
“Supposition,” said Tarkin, “You can't know that.”  
  
“As a matter of fact; yes I can. I am in his mind right now.”

* * *

  
**[Troiken's capital]**  
  
“This is _not_ what we had in mind Stark,” said Lom Porton as their medic dug pieces of glass and wooden splinters out of Stark's face.  
  
“Ma'am, I assure you. This is not what I had in mind either,” grunted Stark as a particularly large and sharp shard was removed, “But we are still on top; our victory is but millimetres away.”  
  
At this, Trodos slammed his axe into the table Stark was sitting on,  <Maybe, maybe not. The scales are teetering more than you know Iaco,> he jabbered in Gamorrese, <The Jedi, Valorum and Gunray were supposed to be dead or prisoners, their troops were not supposed to survive. If we don't have control of the situation by the time a major power manages to overhaul their navicomputers; we will be lynched.>  
  
“Trodos has a point,” said Tam Gozon, “We are pirates, smugglers, mercenaries, assassins and organised crime bosses. Most of us are not trained for soldiering. So tell us Stark – how do you plan to deal with this?”  
  
“Well, put simply there isn't a great deal of planning necessary,” said Stark, “We have the enemy outnumbered and out-gunned. All that remains is to shatter their resolve. We must quickly mount a full assault on the mine, before they regroup properly.”  
  
“Very well,” said Porton, “but plans rarely survive contact with the enemy. We shall see if you can adapt.”

* * *

  
**[Mount Avos, Troiken]**  
  
Suddenly Plo straightened up, alert.  
  
“They are about to mount a full frontal assault! Quickly, we must prepare to intercept and counter them. They will try to break us before we can co-ordinate ourselves,” he said, standing up and dusting off his front.  
  
“If you are in Stark's mind, alien, why not simply make him surrender?” asked Tarkin.  
  
“Unfortunately he's too far away for that; maybe if he was a personal friend I could,” said Plo, “Although even if I could, Stark's co-directors would kill him and carry on if he tried to surrender.”  
  
“Damn. We'll need to use the caves to our advantage then. This place is a warren, good for choke points.”  
  
“Indeed,” said Plo and turned to Jace, “mines, turrets, get them set up at all entrances. The main entrance to the mine is a natural kill-zone. We must trap as many of their forces there and hold them off.”  
  
“Yes, General,” said Jace and dashed off. Plo next turned to Siri and Obi-Wan.  
  
“Padawans, cover the rear entrances with Qui-Gon. Let no-one into the mountain; but try to be discreet. They may not know of all the entrances and I would rather not point them out if that is the case,” Plo then turned to Adi.  
  
“Master Gallia, would you kindly accompany me to answer the door?”  
  
“I think I can indulge you.”

* * *

  
Jace wasn't sure how long the battle lasted. An hour? Two? Three? Six? He, along with Tarkin's troops and the Jedi held the assault force at the main entrance for what felt like an eternity. Fire poured from every opening of the mine onto the plain below as Stark's forces endlessly tried and failed to climb the natural ramps to the cave openings. It all just dissolved in his mind to a long endless monotony of 'centre the target; pull the trigger; repeat'. No matter how many of the enemy fell, more and more kept trudging up the ramps. Their attacks kept changing focus; yet somehow, Master Plo Koon always knew where the next onslaught would be directed. Every now and then lightning would shoot down on the enemy as Master Gallia found a spare moment. Eventually the sheer numbers of the Combine seemed about to overrun them; Jace found himself retreating into the caves with his troops. Then suddenly Master Koon was at his side and driving the Combine back. Jace pressed forwards with him as his troops rallied and together they shunted the enemy out of the cave entrance.  
  
Then suddenly there were no more targets; there was no more blasterfire.  
  
The enemy had gone.  
  
The Combine had retreated.  
  
Back inside the main cavern, Jace once again took inventory as their remaining troops ate rations and tended to the wounded. Masters Koon and Gallia were moving amongst them, thanking them, praising them and helping the injured when they could.  
  
'How did so much death, so much violence, get so... boring,' Jace thought as he paused to watch the medics struggling under the workload.  
  
Then he saw Master Koon walking over to a patient and taking his hand. He said something to the patient, then looked at the medic, who shook his head. Master Koon sat on a rock beside the one the patient was stumped against, still clutching his hand.  
  
Then, after about a minute, the patient's weak breathing slowly came to a stop.  
  
'I feel sick.'  
  
Jace stood up and walked over to Master Koon as the corpse was carried out of the cavern.  
  
“Master Koon,” he said, “I... I owe you an apology.”  
  
“Whatever for,” said Master Koon. Jace took a deep breath.  
  
“General Tarkin was _very_ specific on wanting only humans in his army. Many of us – and I am ashamed to say me included – agreed with him. I know you are not the only Jedi here, yet... you are so... well... _alien_ to us but your concern is honest. We aren't instruments to you, a means to an ambition. You see us as people. So I can only apologise.”  
  
Master Koon studied Jace for a moment, before pulling him into a hug, “Thank you. This has been a hard day; you have brightened it considerably. You never told me your name, what is it?”  
  
“Jace Dallin,”  
  
“I am glad to meet you Jace. Now, there is work to be done; I must attend to more of the wounded and I believe you have an inventory to finish.”

* * *

  
“Well, that was boring,” said Siri as she and Obi-Wan meandered through the caves, “No-one showed up at all and nothing happened for _**five whole hours**_.”  
  
They had received the all clear from Master Gallia and were heading back to the main cavern to regroup.  
  
“Well you had me for company,” said Obi-Wan. Siri snorted.  
  
“Don't flatter yourself, Obi. Five hours with you is _not_ the paradise you'd have people believe.”  
  
“Just because _I_ won the most games of pazaak,” smirked Obi-Wan.  
  
“Oh if you want a rematch, just name the time and...” Siri trailed off as they reached the main cavern. She stared straight ahead at the sight.  
  
Agonised screams issued from the patients as medics frantically worked on them.  
  
Red stains adorned the floor of the improvised medical bay, the smell of festering was in the air.  
  
Every now and then a cadaver was carried out.  
  
“Siri?” said Obi-Wan, “Siri look at me.”  
  
When she didn't move he puled her round to face him, “You need to see Master Gallia.”  
  
“Obi, have you ever.. seen anything like... that,” said Siri, finally coming out of her reverie.  
  
“Yes... on Melida/Daan.”  
  
Siri's eyes widened, “Oh. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it-”  
  
“It's fine,” he said. They walked over to Master Gallia, who was holding a soldier down while the medic sealed her gut shut.  
  
Siri found herself unable to look away as she watched the flesh closing up, held in place by an organic adhesive. When the medic was finished, Master Gallia released the soldier, who curled into a ball, her screams turning to groans.  
  
“There was shrapnel embedded in her lung,” said Master Gallia dispassionately, “We've run out of anaesthetic so I had to hold her down for the entire operation. How did your side go?”  
  
“No sign of anyone at the back entrances; I don't think Stark's Combine knows about them,” said Obi-Wan.  
  
“Well that's some good news,” said Master Gallia and turned to Siri, “Are you okay? Siri?”  
  
Siri shook her head, still staring at the soldier.  
  
Master Gallia placed a hand on each of Siri's shoulders and knelt down in front of her, “Siri.”  
  
Siri finally looked at Master Gallia, “Does... does it get easier?”  
  
Master Gallia sighed, “Not for me. But everyone's different. Some people actually _live_ for this, some just get used to it, others simply can't handle it. I'm no real expert; you should talk with Master Lev'loa after this is over.”  
  
At that point Master Jinn came in and moved over to Master Koon. They exchanged a few words and then they both joined the other Jedi.  
  
“We've patched up all we can for now,” said Master Koon, “We need to discuss our next move with the senators and Gunray.”  
  
They all gathered in a circle, mostly perching on rocks and empty crates. When they were all gathered – and Jace had finished serving out freshly heated nutrition soup – Plo began.  
  
“I have glanced into Stark's mind again, he has convinced his co-directors to wait us out until our food supplies are gone. He has sent a message out on all frequencies claiming responsibility for the navicomputer sabotage and demanding the total surrender of the Galactic Republic to the Combine's authority. He also revealed Senator Tarkin's army in his transmission.”  
  
“Which will inevitably work,” said Tarkin bitterly, “We have no hope of rescue. I seriously doubt the republic even knows we are alive still. You made a good fight of it but we are defeated, Jedi. Are you ready to admit it or do you wish to waste the command you usurped?”  
  
Plo thought for a moment before replying, “There is some truth in what you say Senator. We need to get Valorum back to the Nigh Verity, or at least to somewhere safe where he can contact the senate. He must inform them of the Combine's fragility and convince them to hold out.”  
  
“I must also leave,” said Gunray, “I am a non-combatant; you must get me to safety.”  
  
“Agreed,” added Siri, “We do _not_ need him here.”  
  
“And how do you plan on getting them to Nigh Verity? We have no working ships,” said Tarkin.  
  
“A good point,” said Plo, “Stark has vessels does he not. Master Gallia, how do you feel about piloting a stolen vehicle?”  
  
“I'm game, so: Finis, Gunray and us Jedi,” said Adi, “Anyone else?”  
  
“Senator Tarkin, would you wish to return to Nigh Verity, or would you rather stay with your troops?” said Plo.  
  
Tarkin stiffened, “As much as I am sure you would like to completely usurp my command; no thank you. I will remain with my troops.”  
  
“Very well,” said Plo and rose, “We should go then.  
  
“Master Koon, please, stay with us,” said Jace, “we need you. If you leave with the others, the soldiers will think you've abandoned us.”  
  
“Dallin is right Plo,” said Adi, “Leave Gunray and Finis to us.”  
  
“Very well,” came Plo's reply, “I stay.”  
  
“Finis,” said Tarkin, getting up and approaching Valorum.  
  
“Yes Ranulph?”  
  
“This may be the last we ever see of each other. I want you to know something. Despite our... disagreements, I always... had nothing but respect for you,” he held out a hand. Valorum regarded it for a minute before taking it. They shook.  
  
“Thank you, my old friend,” said Valorum.  
  
“Make them hear our plight Finis, save my men and women. Convince the senate to stop Stark... and one last thing,” Tarkin pulled one of his meals off his uniform, “I earned this medal for my successful campaign against the Delmaasi Pirates; I made my home-world safe for my family in that campaign. Could you please give this to my son, Wilhuff.”  
  
Valorum nodded, “Of course.”

* * *

  
They waited for a diversionary attack by Jace and Plo before sneaking out one of the back entrances. Plo had described to Adi a personal ship of Iaco Stark's that was kept fuelled and ready to leave at the capital city's shipyards. Just in case he needed to quickly escape. Their basic plan was to sneak into the shipyards and hijack the vessel. Adi was currently ahead of the main party, perched on a large rock near the mountain above a patrol on break. The three soldiers were sitting in their air-speeder, eating rations and completely oblivious to Adi's presence barely a metre above them.  
  
'Any moment now... not yet... NOW!'  
  
She jumped down onto the head of the nearest one, causing it to be slammed against the dashboard. Qui-Gon suddenly popped up on the other side of the speeder and dragged the pilot by the neck out of the vehicle. He then proceeded to throttle the driver unconscious while Adi kicked the blaster out of the third soldier's hand.  
  
The one Adi was standing on tried desperately to prise Adi's boot off her windpipe before slumping into a daze. Adi stepped off her and waved her hand in front of the third soldier's face.  
  
“Now sounds like a wonderful time for a nap.”  
  
His eyes looked sleepy as he replied, “Yes, yes It does.”  
  
He keeled over in the back seat and slipped into a rather peaceful sleep. Adi was honestly surprised it had worked, but shrugged. She suspected he was just faking so he didn't have to fight two Jedi masters.  
  
“Okay Siri, Padawan Kenobi. Bind and gag them,” said Adi a she settled into the driver's seat. Siri and Obi-Wan quickly came around the rock and hauled the first and third troops out of the speeder while Qui-Gon straightened up holding the driver by the scruff of his neck and all three began to tie up their captives.  
  
“Finis, Gunray, you can come out now,” called Adi as she ran a systems check on the speeder. They did so and climbed into the back seats.  
  
“Okay, done,” called Siri as she, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan returned and also boarded the speeder. Behind them the three soldiers could be seen propped against the rock, all tied together and gagged.  
  
“Good work,” said Qui-Gon, “now let's get out of here.”  
  
“Siri. Where did your cloak go?” asked Adi as she looked over at her.  
  
“Um...”  
  
“Did you use your cloak to gag the soldiers?”  
  
“I didn't have anything else to hand.”  
  
“I don't believe that for one second,” said Adi as she gunned the speeder off into the morning horizon.  
  
It took a couple of hours to reach the capitol and another half to sneak to the shipyards.  
  
“Which ship did Plo say was Stark's?” asked Qui-Gon.  
  
“That one, the sleek, silver one. Nubian design, not bad. It's called 'The Zutara'.”  
  
“Really?” said Siri, “That's a terrible idea for a ship.”  
  
“Why?” asked Obi-Wan.  
  
“It literally means 'character derailment' in Bith,” said Qui-Gon. They all ducked down behind a large pipe as a freighter flew overhead and landed on the platform opposite Stark's.  
  
“We'll never get to the ship without being seen,” said Qui-Gon, “we need a distraction.”  
  
As if on cue the freighter that had landed exploded.  
  
“What was that? Have they found us?” whispered Gunray.  
  
“No,” said Adi, “Qui-Gon, I sense... wait, what can _they_ be doing here?”  
  
“That's our diversion; I sense them too,” said Qui-Gon, “Get the Senator and Gunray on the ship and out of here. Me and Obi-Wan will investigate. Don't wait for us.”  
  
“May The Force be with you both,” said Adi as Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan ran off to the other platform.  
  
“You too Master Gallia,” came Qui-Gon's reply over his shoulder.  
  
There was only one guard left by The Zutara. He suddenly heard a hum and looked round to see a red lightsaber blade held against his neck.  
  
“Now, you don't want to do this; I don't want to do this. So just let my apprentice here tie you up and we'll be on our way,” said Adi.  
  
The guard took a moment to decide before dropping his blaster and Siri immediately tied him up, gagging him with a cloth from her pocket. Adi raised an eyebrow.  
  
“'Didn't have anything else to hand'? Hmm. Come on.”  
  
Gunray and Valorum rushed up the boarding ramp. Adi began to follow them but stopped when she realised Siri hadn't moved.  
  
She turned round and looked at Siri.  
  
She was fiddling with the sleeve of her tunic and initially didn't meet Adi's eyes.  
  
“Siri, what's wrong?” Adi asked.  
  
“I'm staying behind.”  
  
“What? Why?”  
  
Siri gave no answer.  
  
“Siri, if this is about Obi-Wan-”  
  
“THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH HIM!” she suddenly shouted, “Why does everyone think my choices revolve around _him_? Those soldiers need my help; I can't leave them. I just had to make sure you and Valorum got out safely.”  
  
“Why didn't you tell me before?”  
  
“Because I didn't want you to talk me out of it. You have to go now. Before the distraction wears off.”  
  
Adi nodded. Then, much to Siri's surprise, she quickly ran down the ramp and gave Siri a fierce hug.  
  
“May the force be with you, Siri Tachi,” she said when she broke away. They held eye contact for a moment longer before Adi turned and ran up the ramp. Siri didn't waste another moment in running over towards the opposite, now smoking, platform to rejoin Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon. Suddenly The Zutara flew overhead and off into the distance. By the time anyone tried to stop it, her master was well out of range. Siri peered through the smoke, looking to see where Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had gone.  
  
“Tell me master, you wouldn't happen to be testing my faith in you would you?” Quinlan's voice carried across the smoke filled air.  
  
“No. This is just a complete and utter mistake,” came Master Tholme's voice.  
  
Then she saw both of them running out of the smoke. Followed by Aayla Secura and a lot of blaster bolts.  
  
“Master Tholme? Quin?” called Siri, “What are you doing _here_?”  
  
They made a beeline for her but as they met, even more shots came their way. Siri Ignited her purple blade and joined the other three in deflecting the shots. Then Adi's stolen air-speeder pulled up in front of them.  
  
“Get in!” called Obi-Wan from the driver's seat with Qui-Gon in the back.  
  
They did not need telling twice. The air-speeder zoomed off with all the Jedi aboard.  
  
“I thought it was you I sensed,” said Qui-Gon when they were well away from the city, “I thought you were supposed to be on Thyferra.”  
  
“We were,” said Tholme, “Xucphra had one freighter unaffected by the navicomputer sabotage. We stowed away on it, only for Stark's Combine to hijack it and bring it here. When we arrived I tried to prevent Stark from getting the bacta.”  
  
“So you blew it up?” asked Siri.  
  
“Things escalated. What were you doing here?”  
  
“Trying to get Senator Valorum to Nigh Verity. Adi just escaped with him,” said Qui-Gon, “speaking of which...” he turned to Siri, “Why are you not with her?”  
  
“I'm staying to help the soldiers,” said Siri.  
  
“I see.”  
  
“Pity we didn't meet sooner. I have information about the bacta crisis that must reach Nigh Verity and The Ouran,” said Tholme.  
  
“In that case lets compare notes,” said Qui-Gon as the speeder sped off in the direction of Mount Avos.


	7. The Stark Hyperspace War: A Moment Of Opportunity

**[Mount Avos caves, Troiken, the Qotile system]**  
  
“It's good to see you, Tholme. I only wish it was under better circumstances,” said Plo as he finished briefing the new arrivals.  
  
“Heya Obi-Wan,” said Quinlan, quietly with a small grin, “you and Siri behaving?”  
  
“No idea what you're talking about,” replied Obi-Wan stiffly. They were once again crowded into a circle, with a space left for Jace, who was checking in with the sentries.  
  
“The question that remains, of course, is how long we can hold out,” continued Plo, “additional Jedi is something of a gift since Tyvokka is no longer with us-”  
  
“He's dead,” snapped Quinlan, suddenly, “Can't we just say it? We're all thinking it; so why can't we simply say he's dead.”  
  
“ _Assuming_ that Tyvokka is even dead – and he may not be dead – remember the fourth precept, Quinlan,” said Tholme.  
  
But Quinlan had already got up and swept out of the cavern.  
  
“Obi-Wan, Siri, make sure he doesn't get lost,” said Qui-Gon. They both nodded and hurried after Quinlan.  
  
“My apologies,” said Tholme, looking slightly stressed, “I never did manage to stop Quinlan being so rude.”  
  
“What was he angry about?” asked Aayla.  
  
“All Jedi have their difficulties with at least one of the precepts of our code,” said Plo, “It happens to all of us, even after apprenticeship has finished.”  
  
“Hmm, but I fear that this will always be with him,” said Tholme. Then Jace dashed up to them followed by a Xexto who most certainly did not look like a soldier.  
  
“Excuse me Masters, but you _really_ need to hear this!” Jace said, “This is Billibango, one of the natives. He came to warn us of something.”  
  
“Yes! Danger!” said Billibango hurriedly, “Big danger! You being here disturbs the...” he paused, searching for the word before giving up and using the Xextese word, “'challat' eaters, yes the 'challat' eaters!”  
  
“What are 'challat' eaters and how are they dangerous?” asked Qui-Gon.  
  
“Insects sir, a couple centimetres long, they travel in swarms,” interjected Jace, “'challat' is Xextese for 'flesh' sir. They are predators.”  
  
“Yes! It is true! Eaters make nest in caves; why mine abandoned. They hibernate but big explosions wake them up!” said Billibango frantically, “Eat you alive if they catch you!”  


* * *

  
“Quin?” Quinlan looked up at Obi-Wan as he and Siri sat down on either side of him, “my master asked us to make sure you didn't get lost... although I think we may be lost too.”  
  
“Which is completely not our fault,” added Siri, “This place is a giant maze.”  
  
Quinlan didn't answer at first. He just stared out at the cavern they'd found from the ledge, their legs trailing over the long drop below.  
  
Then, after a long reverie, “The code says there is no death. But I've _felt_ death. I can... read images, senses, memories of things. I once tried to find out how my parents died like that. It was a bad idea.”  
  
“Quin...” Siri stopped herself.  
  
“I felt their deaths, I experienced them. Tholme says it's why I have issues with the fourth precept. I got too close to death,” he sighed and waved away a small insect from his face, “I don't even know if I should tell you guys, Qui-Gon knows but I'm not sure if Tholme told anyone else.”  
  
Siri and Obi-Wan each placed a hand on his shoulder, “you can trust _us_ Quin.”  
  
There were now more insects flying around them. They were about the size of Obi-Wan's finger, transparent turquoise and resembled butterfly or fairy-like creatures. To top it all off, they flowed prettily.  
  
“They're beautiful,” said Obi-Wan as they swarmed around them.  
  
“Ah!”  
  
“Siri?”  
  
“One bit me!” she sucked on her throbbing finger.  
  
More of the insects were joining them.  
  
More were beginning to bite.  
  
“Ow!”  
  
“What are these things?” asked Quinlan. He looked down the drop below him – and immediately wished he hadn't.  
  
Thousands upon thousands of the insects were amassing below them, rising out of the depths.  
  
As the swarm reared up past the ledge, the new knight and two padawans blew it back with the force.  
  
As quickly as they had scattered, the creatures reformed and flew at them.  
  
“RUN!” yelled Siri and they almost flew out of the cavern.  
  
'This way,' a deep, familiar voice sounded in their heads.  
  
“You hear that?” asked Quinlan.  
  
“Don't question it; just follow it!” said Obi-Wan.  
  
They all ran through the tunnels, turning left and right, pursued at all turns by the positively adorable swarm.  
  
Then they turned a corner and-  
  
“Dead end!” cried Siri.  
  
And then.  
  
“Behind you!” came the voice of Master Koon. They turned and saw him peering out through a crack in the rock, “Stand back!”  
  
They complied and suddenly the cave wall was blasted away, blocking up the tunnel that Obi-Wan, Quinlan and Siri had come from.  
  
More importantly, the insects were shut in.  
  
“WHAT WERE THOSE?” shouted Siri as she took in Master Koon standing in the new opening.  
  
“'challat' eaters,” said Master Koon as he inspected the blockage to ensure none of the eaters could get through, “We only just learned of them - your distress helped me find you.”  
  
“Er, yes,” said Obi-Wan, “I can safely say I _was_ distressed.”  
  
“I'm sorry for storming off,” said Quinlan somewhat sheepishly, “I... need to work on that.”  
  
“We all have our battles,” said Master Koon, “The others are securing other tunnels; we must ensure they cannot enter the main cavern. We should join them.”  


* * *

  
**[Space near Corellia, the Corellian system]**  
  
“We're coming up on Corellia,” said Adi as they exited hyperspace, “Nigh Verity _should_ be in orbit on the other side.”  
  
The Zutara rounded the planet swiftly, revealing that the enormous jelly-fish shaped station was indeed orbiting the world.  
  
Suddenly arcs of electricity blasted out of the controls and into Adi. She grunted heavily before firmly planting both of her hands onto the dashboard and closing her eyes in strain. The electricity appeared to flow out of her hands, into the dashboard – which proceeded to melt. When the lightning storm abated, Adi straightened up and turned to Valorum and Gunray, panting heavily.  
  
“Ow. Redirecting electricity is a _lot_ harder than generating it,” she sighed.  
  
“What happened?” asked Gunray.  
  
“Rigged controls, there must have been a code or other form of security we didn't know to input,” Adi stopped and rubbed her now sore neck before continuing, “The controls are ruined; we need to get to the escape pods.”  
  
At which point a countdown began to sound.  
  
Valorum's eyes widened, “Self destruct?”  
  
“Looks like it, escape pods. Now.”  
  
About ten seconds after their pod was away, The Zutara was annihilated in a fiery explosion fuelled by the oxygen from the life support systems. Adi directed them towards Nigh Verity, where security forces picked the pod up and confirmed their identities. In very short order, Gunray had left to return to his ministerial duties and to file a report with the Trade Federation. Valorum made straight for the senate chamber while Adi used her communicator to contact the Jedi council. She was only mildly surprised to find it already in session – apart from Saesee, who had been discovered unconscious in a hallway and was still recovering. In less than an hour and a half, Valorum and Adi were in Valorum's office, communicating with a now up to speed Jedi Council.  
  
“The Senate has been informed that Stark's sabotage can be fixed by simply replacing the navicomputers, that will however take time. The Republic has prioritised trade vessels and their escorts,” said Valorum as he settled into his favourite arm chair.  
  
“What about the troops on Troiken?” asked the hologram of Yarael Poof.  
  
Valorum shook his head sadly, “The Senate will not help them. The only way to keep the peace treaty from breaking is to keep Tarkin's military and navy unauthorised. As such the Senate considers them expendable. I'm sorry; they are on their own.”  


* * *

  
**[Mount Avos caves, Troiken]**  
  
“Master Koon,” Plo looked up at Tarkin as he approached, “I must speak with you.”  
  
“I am listening,” said Plo. Tarkin regarded Plo rather stiffly before speaking again.  
  
“My entire life, my parents raised me to hate your kind: 'Non-humans are inferior beings, unfit to lead or associate with any self-respecting human'. I have been watching you as you steal my command and direct _my_ forces. I have come to the conclusion that my parents were fools who did knew nothing of what they spoke. You may have wrested my command from me, but you know what you are doing. You care about my troops and if anyone can get them out of this, it is you. Thank you.”  
  
With that, he turned and marched off.  
  
“Well, that was hilariously awkward,” said Siri as she slurped her nutrition soup.  
  
“I think that's the best we're gonna get from him,” replied Obi-Wan, pulling a face as he plucked up the courage to down more of his meal.  
  
Suddenly, without warning, Billibango came running into the main cavern.  
  
“BACK ENTRANCES! THEY FOUND BACK ENTRANCES! SURPRISE ATTACK COMING!”  
  
“Prepare for a defence!” called Plo, abandoning his meal and hurrying over to Qui-Gon.  
  
The tentative calm dissolved in seconds to a frantic scramble for weapons, cover and helmets.  
  
Less than a minute later, Combine troops began pouring into the cavern from the entrance Billibango had come from.  
  
Lightsabers and blaster-fire lit up the caves as Tarkin's troops tried to hold back the inexorable tide.  
  
“SNEAKY DEVILS! TRY TO CATCH US SURPRISE-LIKE! WE CATCH YOU NOW! YOU BE STAINS SOON!-”  
  
“Get down, you idiot,” shouted Tarkin as he pulled Billibango behind him and began picking off enemy troops from behind a crate.  
  
Jace wiped sweat from his brow aand switched his blaster to fully automatic, completely gaving up on aiming.  
  
A large mob of troops was focussing on his and Tholme's position by a turret emplacement – it would be overrun any second now.  
  
“Move! Fall back!” Jace grunted to the soldiers close by him and they slowly began creeping back between boxes and rocky outcroppings.  
  
Tholme left a mine behind at the abandoned turret.  
  
The explosion kept the Combine back for a little while before even more of them surged across the empty space.  
  
They almost got to Jace's new position, but suddenly an ammunition crate was flung into the enemy by Aayla.  
  
A well-placed shot from Tarkin spread fire in front of Jace's cover, stalling them a moment longer.  
  
As he was seeking out another ideal target, Tarkin noticed a fuel cell behind Jace.  
  
His eyes widened.  
  
“DALLIN! MOVE!” Jace couldn't hear him.  
  
No-one could hear him in this racket, save Billibango.  
  
“Me get him,” called Billibango, who took off across the battlefield.  
  
“NO! DON'T!” but it was too late. The Xexto was already out of earshot.  
  
Jace was once again under heavy fire, troops falling around him.  
  
He could see ,out of the corner of his eye, Tholme was making a beeline for his position.  
  
Jace ducked below another shot.  
  
Then suddenly everything seemed silent.  
  
He couldn't see.  
  
All he could feel was a searing pain.  
  
He felt himself being pulled by someone... then his thoughts became hazy and he knew no more.  
  
He could now hear voices, feel a dull ache.  
  
He managed to crack open his eyes.  
  
There was a bearded human standing over him.  
  
Then it all came rushing back.  
  
He could feel bandages on the left side of his face, which was stinging badly, covering his eye. Mercifully his eye itself felt fine.  
  
“What happened?” he asked Master Jinn.  
  
“A fuel cell behind you exploded, I've done my best but we've no bacta left and Tholme is stretched thin healing as it is. Billibango pulled you out; if it hadn't been for him you probably wouldn't have survived. Rest now, save your energy.”  
  
Jace could now see the other Jedi and Tarkin around him.  
  
“Adi reached Nigh Verity with Valorum and Gunray, but their ship self-destructed,” said Master Koon, “They made it to an escape pod and managed to reach the senate and inform the council. Stark's spies informed him; I was watching his mind at the time. Unfortunately the senate has decided against aiding us, lest the Sith use it as political leverage.”  
  
Tarkin sighed, “So after all this, we fail now. So do we surrender in humiliation, or die here?”  
  
Plo seemed to think for a moment, “Perhaps... there is another way. Perhaps we have a moment of opportunity.”  
  
“You have a plan?” asked Tholme.  
  
“I can see a few possibilities.”  


* * *

  
**[Halls of Learning, The Ouran, orbiting Falleen, the Falleen system]**  
  
“Sha? Are you paying attention?” asked Master Saldith as he set his gaze on Youngling Koon. The entire class turned to look at Sha.  
  
“No, Master Saldith,” she said, calmly.  
  
Saldith stared at her for a moment before responding, “And may I ask why that is?”  
  
“My uncle wants to talk with the Jedi Council.”  
  
“Sha, your uncle is on Troiken.”  
  
“I know. He is talking to me in my mind.”  


* * *

  
**[High Council chamber, The Ouran]**  
  
Saesee Tiin had finally recovered and joined the rest of the council. He was rubbing his rather sore temples when Saldith entered the council chamber.  
  
“Master Saldith? To what do we owe this interruption?” he said in his soothing, measured voice.  
  
“Apologies councillors, but Youngling Koon here says she is in mental communication with Master Koon. She says he wishes to speak with the council immediately.”  
  
“I see,” said Master Windu, “Saesee, you're the mind expert. Would you say such long distance communication is possible?”  
  
“Entirely possible,” said Saesee, “As his niece, Sha knows Plo well. Plo also has the benefit of other Jedi to bolster him.”  
  
“Then do the same, we should,” said Master Yoda.  
  
“Agreed,” said Adi's hologram.  
  
“Very well,” said Saesee, “If you will all gather round me and Youngling Koon, I will join our thoughts to hers – and by extension Plo's. Adi, I can link your thoughts through me from afar.”  
  
They all – apart from Adi's hologram – rose and encircled Sha. Saesee placed his hands on Sha's head.  
  
_'Masters, it is good to hear you again,'_ came Plo's distant voice, _'I believe I may have a method of ending this affair. I would particularly appreciate Master Rancisis' thoughts.'_  
  
...  
  
_'Unorthodox but workable,'_ replied Oppo after Plo had explained his idea to them, _'All we need is a means to transport from Falleen to Troiken. By the time our hyperdrives are overhauled, it will be too late.'_  
  
_'Stark's Combine has a patch for the virus – it is how their ships were able to circumvent it.'_ thought Plo, _'Qui-Gon, his padawan and Padawan Tachi will obtain it. I will have Master Tholme and Knight Vos standing by to broadcast it to you. I, along with Padawan Secura and Senator Tarkin, will co-ordinate our ground forces.'_  
  
_'I have one Idea on how to transport the order,'_ added Adi, _'The Trade Federation must have freighters on Falleen. If we can convince them to transport us and provide fighters for us then we have our solution.'_  


* * *

  
**[Office of Minister Gunray, Nigh Verity, orbiting Corellia]**  
  
“Absolutely not!” said Gunray, leaning back in his new mechno-chair, “All risk and no profit.”  
  
“If the Collective is not conclusively defeated, they will scatter and plague us all – _including_ The Trade Federation – for goodness knows how long,” said Adi, “But if that doesn't motivate you, how about this: Master Tholme has communicated to us the truth of how you and certain officials manufactured the bacta shortage.”  
  
Gunray stared almost disbelievingly for a moment before, “Lies! You have no proof. Merely your word against ours.”  
  
Adi smiled a dangerous smile and leaned her face very close to Gunray's, “True. But who do you think is more likely to be believed?”  
  
“If... if I do this, these _absurd_ allegations against me are unheard of?” said Gunray tentatively, leaning away from Adi.  
  
“Not against you, not from the Jedi,” replied Adi, her smile widening, “And who knows, you may even be treated as a hero by the media.”  


* * *

  
**[Troiken's capital]**  
  
Stark found himself slammed against the wall by the neck, courtesy of Trodos.  
“Give us one good reason, Stark, why we shouldn't kill you now and move on,” demanded Boor-Daa.  
  
“It.. -ack- it's hard to answer when you can't... breathe,” choked out Stark.  
  
“Hard to Lie you mean,” Tam Gozon replied.  
  
“Listen...” Stark coughed as Trodos' fist tightened, “got.. plan. Can't fail!”  
  
“Let him down for a moment please Trodos,” said Lom Porton, “He will choose his words carefully; they may be his last.”  
  
Trodos complied and Stark collapsed onto the floor, heaving.  
  
After he had recovered and straightened up, Gozon spoke, “What is this plan then?”  
  
“We need to make one final push into the mountain. This time it can't fail,” said Stark.  
  
“Why is that?” said Boor-Daa, “We've tried it before, remember.”  
  
<And it didn't go very well. Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result,> added Trodos.  
  
“Ah, but it is not the same thing,” grinned Stark, “Because this time I have an inside man.”  


* * *

  
**[Space above Falleen]**  
  
Saesee was preparing his personal fighter, The Sharp Spiral, in the hangar bay of one of the Trade Federation cruisers that had been lent to them. Eeth Koth walked up to him as he closed the last maintenance pannel.  
  
“Are we the preparations done Eeth?”  
  
“Yes. Master Rancisis is on the bridge to co-ordinate. We have six cruisers and three landers at our disposal. Do we have enough Fighters prepared?"  
  
“Yes, they will still outnumber us but we have enough Jedi Aces and Masters available. However unless we receive the virus patch, we can't do anything.”  


* * *

  
**[The Raptor, space above Troiken]**  
  
Aboard the combine flagship, The Raptor, Tholme and Quinlan were crouched behind one of the ship's main transmitters. Infiltrating the ship had been a simple matter of stowing away on a supply ship using force camouflage.  
  
“Pity Aayla isn't adept enough for a trip this long yet,” said Quinlan.  
  
“She'll master it in time,” replied Tholme before speaking into his comlink, “Qui-Gon, we are in position. Do you have the patch data?”  


* * *

  
**[Troiken's capital]**  
  
“That may be a problem,” replied Qui-Gon's. He, Obi-Wan and Siri were standing in Stark's headquarters in the capital city. In front of them sat a protocol droid, “The patch data is held by a protocol droid programmed to release it only upon receiving the correct code.”  
  
Then the doors opened and Stark, Tam Gozon and Boor-Daa ran into the room flanked by troops.  
  
“See? Just as my ally said,” Stark smirked at Qui-Gon, “Can you guess what happens next?”  
  
Suddenly Stark shot Boor-Daa in the back with a stunner.  
  
“What the-” was all Tam Gozon managed to get out before he too was stunned by Stark. Stark's troops seemed taken aback and were unable to react before Stark hit a button on the wall, causing a blast shutter to drop down between him and the troops.  
  
“Did I forget to mention?” Stark asked the unconscious form of Tam Gozon, “The ally I mentioned was a Jedi; I heard him in my head. His name is Plo Koon. He has been in my head, monitoring me this whole time. He pointed out to me that – win or lose – _I_ was finished,” Stark then turned to Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and Siri, “He offered me amnesty in exchange for my co-operation. It was better than my other prospects.”  
  
“Speaking of which?” said Siri.  
  
“Ah, yes. Well...” Stark said with a winning smile, “That password must be worth a lot to you guys... maybe we could haggle a little? Sweeten the deal?”  
  
The three Jedi looked at each other for a moment before simultaneously igniting their lightsabers.  
  
“Okay! Okay!” said Stark hurriedly, “It was worth a try. The password is 'hot-tits'”  
  
“Thanks,” said Siri; she smiled and punched him in the face, “That's for all the people you killed, the trouble you've put us through and most of all that awful password.”  


* * *

  
**[Mount Avos]**  
  
The Combine's forces were flooding into the mountain unopposed through the main entrance. As they did, Tarkin's troops were hurrying out through the back entrances with their equipment. Plo was stalling the Combine at one of the exits from the main Cavern.  
  
_“Sir! Enemies all in mountain! None left outsides!”_ Billibango whispered over the comm-link.  
“Excellent,” Plo replied, “Jace, Tarkin, Aayla? Are our troops evacuated?”  
  
_“Yes,”_ came Jace's voice, _“and the demolitions are all set up. We're just waiting on your signal.”_  
  
“Good, I'm on my way out.”  


* * *

  
**[The Raptor]**  
  
“Captain Zur! Sensors show republic troops on the plain outside the mountain!”  
  
the surly captain of The Raptor turned to the scanner, “Well then, let's bomb them into dust.”  
  
“Captain Zur! Trade Federation cruisers and landers coming in from hyperspace!”  
  
“What?”  


* * *

  
**[Trade Federation cruiser, space above Troiken]**  
  
“Squadrons Red and Blue, follow my lead,” said Saesee over the comm, “May The Force be with us.”  
  
Squadrons of starfighters poured out of the cruisers' hangars and engaged the Combine fighters.  


* * *

  
**[The Raptor]**  
  
“Ah ha!” said Tholme as he and Quinlan ran towards The Raptor's hangar bay, “It would seem our fellow Jedi have arrived! But why aren't this ship's shields up?”  
  
“That might be because I sabotaged them while waiting for the patch,” said Quinlan, “I am but a mirror of my master.”  
  
“Then we need to get off this ship before it is destroyed!”  


* * *

  
**[Mount Avos]**  
  
“Blow the mine entrances now!” said Plo over the comm-link.  
  
There was a resounding explosion as charges detonated all across the mountain.  
  
With a great crash, every exit from the mountain collapsed.  
  
Barring one.  
  
_“Master Koon? This is Jace, all entrances are sealed except the final checkpoint. The enemy is trapped but we have a problem. Aayla is missing, is she with you or General Tarkin?”  
“Um, Master Koon? I seem to have gotten lost,”_ came Aayla's voice, _“Oh my- Master Koon! I FOUND MORE OF THOSE BUGS!”_  
  
_“I have your signal Padawan,”_ came Tarkin's voice, _“Home in on mine; I'll prepare a little surprise for the eaters.”_  
  
“Jace, allow out any combine troops who surrender!” said Plo as he ran through the caves, “Aayla, I'm coming too. Tarkin where are you?”  
  
_“I'm with Tarkin now, Master Koon,”_ Aayla again, _“he's setting a charge to seal this tunnel.”_  


* * *

  
**[Space above Troiken]**  
  
The Raptor exploded under heavy fire as a small shuttle, occupied by Quinlan and Tholme, flew out the main hangar.  
  
“Master Tiin,” Tholme said over the comm, “please don't fire on my shuttle. How goes the battle?”  
  
_“It is more or less over, they aren't very good,”_ came Saesee's reply, _“We only have to round up the troops in mount Avos.”_  


* * *

  
**[Mount Avos caves]**  
  
“This should sort the buggers out,” said Tarkin as he armed the charge. He and Aayla took cover behind a rock further down the tunnel.  
  
“Three, two , one,” Tarkin hit the detonator.  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
They stared at each other.  
  
Then Tarkin inspected the detonator. He pulled out the power cell - it was mouldy and discoloured.  
  
The 'challat' eaters were now in view down the tunnel.  
  
“Can you hit the manual trigger with the force?” Tarkin asked Aayla.  
  
“No,” she said, “Well, yes I could, but I'd need to be able to see it. So I'd be too close; I'd be caught in the blast anyway. May as well just press it myself.”  
  
“Right then,” said Tarkin. He got up from behind the rock, “Stay here.”  
  
“But-”  
  
“Stay here, alien, unless you wish to die.”  
  
Tarkin ran down the tunnel to the explosives. He pulled out his comm-link.  
  
“Master Koon, I'm not going to make it. Padawan Secura will.”  
  
“Tarkin? What are you-”  
  
“Could you do me a favour please, Plo,” continued Tarkin as if discussing the weather, “Could you ask Finis to not let my son turn into me?”  
  
He disconnected his comm-link and hovered his hand over the switch, “Well, Finis, I suppose you won't be expecting me to have died like this.”  
  
He pressed the button.  
  
Aayla felt the explosion shake the cave around her.  



	8. A Lesson With Master Giiett

**[Mount Avos caves, Troiken, the Qotile system]**  
  
“Aayla! Tarkin! Respond!” Plo gripped the communicator tightly as he ran down the tunnel.  
  
He was nearly at their last known position before their signals had been lost.  
  
He turned a corner and saw Aayla, huddled against a rock.  
  
Past her he saw the collapsed debris embedded with the crushed remains of a few 'challat' eaters.  
  
Then he saw the mangled form on the ground in front of the cave-in.  
  
Wordlessly, Plo put his arm around Aayla and lifted her to her feet. His arm still around her shoulders, he directed her down the tunnel away from the mess.  
  
“Is he-?” Aayla didn't seem able to finish.  
  
“Yes,” said Plo.

* * *

  
Lom Porton and Trodos were with their troops in the main cavern. Porton didn't like this one bit.  
  
“Where are they? And what were those explosions?” she wondered aloud.  
  
<I suspect our adversaries have outmanoeuvred us,> said Trodos, <I believe they may have shut us in.>  
  
Then Porton's communicator buzzed into life. It was Stark.  
  
_“Members of the Stark Commercial Combine, this is Iaco Stark. The Jedi order has outwitted us. Our fleet is in tatters, our sabotage has been undone and me, Boor-Daa and Tam Gozon have been captured. Our troops in Mount Avos have been trapped by explosives. The Jedi inform me they will not allow anyone to leave through the only remaining exit unless they surrender. The location of the exit is being sent to all of you now.”_  
  
Porton stared at her communicator for a full minute before it fully sunk in, “What?”  
  
She looked around. The message had sounded from everyone's communicators. They all turned to her and Trodos, looking for direction.  
  
“ _What?_ ” she repeated.  
  
Trodos let out a defeated sigh and planted his war-axe in the rock under his feet, <We made our gambit. We lost.>  
  
With that he turned, leaving his axe in the ground, and walked out of the cavern in the direction of the exit.  
  
“ _ **What?**_ ”

* * *

  
**[Mount Avos rear entrances]**  
  
Tholme, Quinlan, Qui-Gon, Siri, Obi-Wan and Jace were clustered around the final exit with their troops. The Jedi's ships had landed on the plain a few moments ago and were on their way to meet them.  
  
Tholme saw Saesee come around the mountain, followed by many other Jedi, and turned to meet him.  
  
“Where are Master Koon, Padawan Secura and Senator Tarkin?” asked Saesee.  
  
“We don't know,” said Tholme, “no-one has come out of the mountain yet. Nothing on the communicator either.”  
  
Then a rustling sound issued from the cave. The nearest troops raised their weapons, pointing into the tunnel.  
  
Everyone turned towards it.  
  
Then after a few seconds, Master Plo Koon emerged from the dust and gloom of the mountain.  
His arm was around Aayla's shoulder still as he guided her out.  
  
“Aayla!” Quinlan ran froward and pulled Aayla from Plo, dropped to one knee and examined her, “You look alright but I'm taking you to a medic anyway.”  
  
“Masters Caudle, De Yuni and Knight Nema are all with us,” said Saesee.  
  
With that – and amid her protests – Quinlan dragged her off to find one of them.  
  
Everyone else now turned to Plo, who was still standing in the tunnel entrance, looking out at them all.  
  
“This war is over. Senator Ranulph Tarkin is dead. All that remains is for the Combine's troops and remaining leaders to admit defeat. Then we can begin cleaning up.”  
  
It was not hard to make out the triumph in his voice.

* * *

  
**[Elsewhere]**  
  
Tyvokka grunted as the diplomatic cruiser shook around him.  
  
The artificial gravity had failed and the shields were close to dropping.  
  
If they did, then the ship would break up under the strain of hyperspace.  
  
He dragged himself along the passageway, fighting the pull of motion that threatened to drag him to the back of the ship.  
  
Warning lights were flickering, the klaxons had given in some time ago and he could feel the ship heating up.  
  
With one final crawl, Tyvokka reached the door to the cockpit.  
  
He had to get the ship out of hyperspace before it broke up.  
  
The door was stuck closed.  
  
Straining with all his considerable might, he pulled his hand onto the door handle and tugged.  
  
It resisted him at first – before he yanked it harder.  
  
The door buckled under his strength and finally came free from the frame.  
  
Tyvokka let it go and it flew down the passageway, slamming into the wall at the end.  
  
He crawled into the cockpit and nearly collapsed as the ship lurched for what felt like the thousandth time.  
  
When he recovered, he looked up at the navicomputer display.  
  
It was flashing a warning about a planet in the flightpath. The switch to exit hyperspace seemed so far away, Tyvokka seriously doubted he would reach it in time.  
  
'No. I will not end here. This will not be where I give in.'  
  
Drawing upon the last of his strength, he threw himself forward one final length and grabbed onto the console.  
  
He felt his legs pulled out from under him as he was nearly dragged backwards.  
  
He was now floating – floating horizontally.  
  
As fast as he could, Tyvokka reached out to the switch, grasped it and pulled.

* * *

  
**[Mount Avos rear entrances]**  
  
Trodos had finally found the exit. As he walked towards it he found a half dozen weapons pointed at his head. Several Jedi ignited their lightsabers for good measure.  
  
<I surrender. You have victory this day.>  
  
The troops cautiously kept their weapons trained on him until he was handcuffed.  
  
A diplomatic cruiser flew overhead as Siri shut off her lightsaber. It landed a short distance away, the boarding ramp lowered and she saw several figures walking out. She squinted through the midday sunlight and dust. Then she recognised one of the figures.  
  
“Master!”  
  
“Siri!” Adi practically ran to Siri and drew her into a crushing hug, “Okay, as good as it is to see you again, you have some explaining to do young lady!”  
  
“What do you-”  
  
“Going off-mission, punching people in the face and throwing away your cloak? We are going to have a long talk. Do you have any idea how worried I was? Or how expensive decent cloaks are in this day and age?”  
  
Siri sighed and waved goodbye to Obi-Wan as Adi led her away for an impromptu lecture. A wave that Adi noticed and pounced upon.  
  
“Oh and don't even get me started on Obi-Wan – I've seen the way you look at and act around him!”  
  
Siri went crimson, “Ah! But- Master!” she dropped her voice, “Shut up.”  
  
“Are you joking?” grinned Adi, “After all the worry you put me through? This is your penance - count yourself lucky. What did you expect? A girl-talk session?”

* * *

  
**[The Ouran, orbiting Falleen, the Falleen system]**  
  
“Well the Sith are pissed. They're demanding Stark's head on a plate,” said Stass as she took a seat beside K'Kruhk. They were in the Rotunda, waiting for an exhibition training exercise to begin.  
  
“Cough up,” said Agen, shaking a quarter-filled jar of credits at her.  
  
“Oh come on!” she replied, “Piss isn't even a real swear word.”  
  
Agen just shook the jar even more, “No loopholes and that's twice now. Which reminds me, you owe me for all of launch day. I didn't collect because we were pretty busy.”  
  
Stass grumbled unintelligibly as she fished through her pockets and dropped two credits into the jar, “Go on then, how many times did I swear on launch day?”  
  
“Six that I heard. Pretty sure there were more I didn't hear.”  
  
Stass scowled as she added six credits to the jar.  
  
“So when you leaving?” she asked Bultar as she turned to watch the training exercise starting below.  
  
“Two days from now,” said Bultar, “Can't wait to be off this station.”  
  
“Somehow I doubt you'll have as much fun hanging with the Elves as you would with us,” said K'Kruhk.  
  
“It's not just Elves on Fwacide,” said Xiaan, “There are like twelve native sentient species, or something like that.”  
  
“Twelve?” asked Bultar.  
  
“Yep, but everyone keeps focusing on the Elves. Dunno why since you never forget the first time you see a Sphinx,” she replied, “Probably because Elves are the most prolific. You'll find out more when you get there.”  
  
“So this Stark mess didn't cause problems with the mission?” asked K'Kruhk.  
  
“Nope, I was lucky they managed to sort it out quickly. Still can't believe Master Tyvokka's missing though”

* * *

  
Micah marched into the room as the last few younglings took their seats.  
  
“Okay,” he began, “Now I know that the last two days have kicked up a lot of fuss and I know _you_ all want to know more about what happened with the affair on Troiken and Master Tyvokka. Unfortunately for you _I_ have a class to teach. So you are going to have to put your curiosity to one side for the time being.”  
  
He sat down at his desk and picked up a small computer chip.  
  
“So, new topic today: Independent Thought Processors, or I.T.P.s,” He waved one in front of the class, “These little things are what separate basic droids from intelligent companions like astromech or protocol droids. Without one of these, a droid literally cannot think for itself and will act extremely predictably. For any kind of change of orders a droid that lacks an I.T.P. needs a remote control signal or manual reprogramming,” A hand raised near the back of the class. Micah stopped and turned his head towards it, “Yes, Youngling Tohno?”  
  
“Why would you make a droid without one then, Master?”  
  
“Excellent question. Put simply, expense versus profit. These don't cost an especially large amount but if you are manufacturing a few million droids to do extremely simple tasks it becomes a lot of money, which will cut a pretty hefty chunk of profit. If you just want a droid to sweep the floor you don't need any kind of intelligent thought. Now, consider a protocol droid. It has to make many judgements in providing an accurate translation, literal translations are often messy and misleading. You need an I.T.P. For that.”  
  
Micah paused to take a sip of his tea before continuing, “Droids with I.T.P.s normally develop personalities over time if not routinely memory wiped. Now, the question of battle droids is a little more complicated. You need them to be effective fighters. But at the same time you don't want them deciding they want to side with the enemy or gain weaknesses due to personalities developing that make them less effective.”  
  
“Can any of you tell me the three major solutions that are used to deal with this?”  
  
A sea of hands rose.  
  
“Youngling Veld.”  
  
“A droid control centre.”  
  
“Yes, indeed. By making all orders and decisions remotely, the problem is circumvented. But it has a drawback: if anything happens to the control centre then the droids will become useless. What about the other two solutions?”  
  
The hands rose again.  
  
“Youngling Vals.”  
  
“Programming constraints.”  
  
“Correct, droids with I.T.P.s can have limitations inbuilt into their programming to prevent any dissent or personality development. This is obviously more expensive otherwise it would be the only method used as it solves the problem entirely. And-” he stopped when he noticed that the class was no longer paying attention.  
  
He sighed.  
  
“Fine I'll tell you about Master Tyvokka. Will that get you to pay attention more?”  
  
They all suddenly sat up, very focussed.  
  
“Okay, good. Now I'm still teaching a class here, so I'll tell you while teaching you about hyperspace travel. Good enough?”  
  
They all nodded.  
  
“Tyvokka was aboard a diplomatic cruiser when it malfunctioned and entered hyperspace. Hyperspace travel works by exceeding the speed of light – don't question the how, that's far too advanced for you at the moment. Just accept that exceeding the speed of light _is_ possible, just that very strange things happen as a result. Anyway, in exceeding lightspeed by several factors of it, shielded craft can enter hyperspace. If they're unshielded then they slowly get torn apart. Unfortunately for Tyvokka, Iaco Stark had sabotaged the hyperdrive's navicomputer. This meant that he was blasted at high speed to an unknown location. We don't know where he is, or whether we will ever find him. We could find him tomorrow, in ten years or never for all we know. There, are you satisfied now?”  
  
After a moment, all the younglings' hands shot up. Micah sighed.

* * *

  
“I still can't believe that Porton held off surrendering for twenty hours,” said Siri as their shuttle came in to land on the Ouran.  
  
“Right,” said Adi, “everyone, council debrief session. You too Dallin.”  
  
“Me?” Said Jace.  
  
“Well yeah,” replied Adi, “With Tarkin dead you _are_ the highest ranking member of his 'army'. You'll be having to explain all this to the council.”  
  
“Explain?” Jace looked positively alarmed, his uncovered eye wide in shock, “But... but I'm just General Tarkin's aide!”  
  
“Which is why you'll be explaining to the council how these rumours of a republic 'military' are completely unfounded. And the 'navy'? What navy? Such a ridiculous notion. What about the starships? – It's all lies, they're not even there!”  
  
Jace gaped at her as she strode down the boarding ramp.  
  
“Wh- Master Gallia? This is a... surprising side of you.”  
  
Adi turned back to him and gave a winning smile, “Master diplomat, remember – I know politics. Now if I recall correctly Tarkin and his force were present at the negotiations as a prearranged security force, the negotiation arrangements were kept secret after all....”  
  
Obi-Wan, Aayla and Quinlan stared as Adi tugged Jace off towards the lifts, Valorum following behind him.  
  
“That was... good. I suppose,” said Quinlan.  
  
“If by good you mean completely dishonest,” replied Obi-Wan.  
  
Siri snorted, “Eh, seen it enough times and I stopped being surprised long ago.”  
  
“Might I suggest we head to the council chamber too?” added Plo from behind them.  
  
They all quickly caught up to the other three and entered the nearest lift.

* * *

  
“No, I do not know who will be occupying Tyvokka's seat while he's gone,” said Micah, who was quickly wishing he'd never given the children this opportunity.  
  
His tea was nearly drained and he was practically preying for the lesson to come to an end. The sea of hands had not abated, if anything it had grown – which now that he thought about it shouldn't have been possible. Then he had an idea.  
  
“Hmm, okay enough questions for now,” the class let out a collective 'aww', “But I will now show you how to disable a battle droid in one simple motion.”  
  
That got their attention.  
  
“Brig, could you send me the test dummy?” Micah said to a wall monitor.  
_“Of course, Master Giiett,”_ came the electronic, monotone reply.  
  
After a moment, the door opened and a disarmed battle droid shambled out. It was a skeletal thing, thin and frail-looking with an elongated face. It stopped just to Micah's right and stood there staring at the back wall.  
  
“Here we have a standard Baktoid Combat Automata B1 battle droid. I'm going to be blunt – these things are terrible. They are cheap, lack any kind of real combat skill and are fairly fragile. They come in two types. The most common is the type controlled by remote through a droid control system. These ones are just straight up dumb, being completely reliant on exact orders assigned by the control system. Brig is currently acting as the control system for this test dummy.”  
  
_“Hello, children,”_ came the monotone voice again, _“Are you having a good day?”_  
  
“Yes Brig,” replied the class in unison.  
  
“The second type have I.T.P.s. These are fairly rare and are not as bad as the first type. They're still not that good though,” continued Micah, “Pilot specialised versions need I.T.P.s because piloting _needs_ on-the-spot decision making. B1s are only really useful in numeric superiority. They are cheap and replaceable and as such the most effective tactic with them is to simply have their sheer numbers win.”  
  
Micah walked behind the droid, “Now, something to remember about B1s is that their receivers for their control signal is located in the same place as their I.T.P. would be: in the bottom of the head. The best part is that because B1s are held together by electromagnets, the receiver or I.T.P. can be easily pulled out, as can any of their limbs.”  
  
With that, he put his hand over the droid's shoulder, grasped a thin unit where it's 'jaw' should be and slid it out of the head.  
  
The droid instantly fell to the ground.  
  
“Quick, easy and stealthy. We'll spend the rest of the lesson practising that. But when you try the droid will be alert and will try to stop you if it detects you,” Micah said with a small smirk and replaced the unit into the droid's head, “Now, who wants to go first?”

* * *

  
Bruck Chun couldn't see anything.  
  
The darkness was total, no light could breach the hood.  
  
He was reaching out with his other senses.  
  
The hood obscured them.  
  
He also had The Force. It was all he had.  
  
It wasn't easy.  
  
His lightsaber felt heavy in his hands. He tensed up then suddenly slashed the red beam to his left. It sliced through thin air.  
  
Close.  
  
So close. He had heard the buzz of the seeker droid.  
  
To his far left he heard a faint buzz, a hum then a clatter of metal on floor.  
  
“Point to Bant,” came the voice of Bruck's master, Master Ranik Solusar.  
  
That made three for Bant. Bruck had yet to hit a single droid.  
  
“Relax Bruck, let your surroundings guide you,” said Master Solusar.  
  
Bruck tried to remember his advice from before. He and Bant were supposed to work together. They needed to read each other with The Force, but it wasn't working. He could barely hear her, much less sense her. How was he supposed to open himself to her anyway? She was Oafy-Wan's friend, not his.  
  
He heard another buzz and swung, missing again. There was another buzz, hum, clang behind him.  
  
“Excellent poise, Bant,” came Knight Fisto's voice.  
  
Could this seriously be happening? How was the shrinking violet upstaging him?  
  
Bant had only recently become Master Fisto's apprentice. Bruck – and indeed many others – had speculated on whether Bant had caused her prior master's sudden isolation and abandonment of her.  
  
How could this be happening? How could the 'master-ender' be outclassing him?  
  
Pulling himself from his thoughts, he reached out again. Sweat was streaming down his back, sticking his tunic to him, his white hair matted against his pale forehead.  
  
'I must look fucking ridiculous.'  
  
He heard something behind him and turned – crashing into Bant. They both fell to the ground.  
  
“Begin again,” came Master Fisto's calm voice, “Opposite corners.”  
  
“Go,” came Master Solusar's stern snap when both Bruck and Bant were ready.  
  
They began to move again, slowly.  
  
Clang. Bant again.  
  
But he still couldn't sense her.  
  
His lightsaber was getting harder to hold as his hands became more and more clammy.  
  
He nearly fumbled it. Damn, dropping it in front of the generation failure would not look good.  
  
“Trust your partner, Bant. Wait for him, do not strike until you know where he is,” called Master Fisto.  
  
“Patience, Bruck,” added Master Solusar, “compulsion is the enemy here.”  
  
'Keep it together Bruck.'  
  
He heard another hum, followed by a clang.  
  
Screw this. Why should he wait while Bant humiliated him?  
  
Bruck lunged forward, dropping his first droid.  
  
He sensed another behind him and struck it to the floor.  
  
He sensed yet another to his right. With a humming slash, it too fell.  
  
He _heard_ more than _sensed_ Bant doing the same nearby.  
  
  
In less than two further minutes they had taken down all the droids.  
  
Bruck yanked off his hood in triumph, gazing around at the audience of initiates, younglings, apprentices and padawans watching. He found Oafy-Wan, Reeft, Siri and Garen's faces among the crowd. He smirked at them.  
  
To his right he noticed Bant pulling off her hood. Her skin an even more salmon colour than usual from the exertion, her silver eyes shining with satisfaction.  
  
Master Solusar stepped forward, “You have both failed the exercise. I am disappointed.”

* * *

  
**[Unknown]**  
  
Tyvokka's ship staggered out of hyperspace. He breathed out. Admittedly it was on fire and he should probably do something about that, but still. He wasn't dead yet. Now he just had to hope he was at least vaguely near a habitable mass.  
  
_“Warning. Orbit not sustainable – planetary collision imminent. Please adjust course.”_  
  
Tyvokka sat back in one of the pilot chairs and swore eighteen times in three languages.


	9. The Revenge Of The Sith

**[The Jedi Archives, the Ouran, orbiting Falleen, the Falleen system]**

“Jocasta, is Tahl in here?” asked Zourvux.  
  
Chief Librarian Master Jocasta Nu looked up at her from the console and nodded sourly, “Of course she is. She's in the same cloister she was yesterday; and the day before that; and the day before that; and so on. And she will just as assuredly be in there tomorrow.”

They were in the Jedi archives – the actual archives, literally transported directly from the Jedi Temple on Coruscant onto the Ouran while it was being built. It had been a large job but actually shorter and easier than transferring all the data from the archives onto a fresh system. Several other rooms as well as most of the furniture had also been salvaged from the now mostly gutted temple. After all, it wasn't as if anyone was going to use the Coruscant temple again.

“Damn,” said Zourvux.  
  
“I'm not even sure she leaves at all,” Jocasta continued, “I know for a fact that Qui-Gon takes her food sometimes – and of course she barely acknowledges him. I certainly wouldn't put it past her to sleep in here.”

“Alright,” said Zourvux, “thank you Jocasta. I'll try and talk to her again.”  
  
She slowly ambled along the section and turned into an adjacent one. She proceeded to the end of the section and ducked into the final cloister, entrenched deep in the labyrinthine archives. Here sat Master Tahl at a desk, positively swamped in datapads, artefact replicas and even some real paper books.  
  
“How are you, Tahl,” asked Zourvux as she approached.  
  
“Fine,” Tahl replied distractedly.  
  
Zourvux hesitated before continuing.  
  
“Bant had a training exhibition today.”  
  
“That's good,”  
  
“She failed.”  
  
“Oh... That's a pity,” Tahl replied, her soft voice stumbling out faintly.  
  
“Jocasta says she isn't sure if you leave the archives or if you sleep here.”  
  
“Probably the latter. What day is it?”  
  
Zourvux raised an eyebrow at this, “Thursday.”  
  
“I see... Definitely the latter.”

Zourvux took a moment before responding, “Qui-Gon's back.”  
  
“He was gone?”  
  
“ _Yes_. He was on Troiken for the last couple days.”  
  
“I thought it had been a while since he brought me food – that silly man, does he think I can't look after myself?” Tahl chuckled to herself.  
  
Zourvux chose not to voice her response to that.

“What have you been working on?” she said finally.  
  
“Oh, just trying to transliterate this Massassi script variant. These scripts were found on Yavin IV of all places about three and a half millennia ago – nobody's yet got around to doing it,” said Tahl, absent-mindedly.  
  
“And... when are you planning to leave the archives?”  
  
“Probably when I'm finished.”  
  
“Tahl, the Massassi scripts all use an extensive glyph system.”

“Yes, what's your point?”  
  
“This could literally take months – maybe a couple of weeks if it's one of the simpler forms.”  
  
“Well, I've gotten so far already. No point in stopping no-”

“Tahl,” said Zourvux firmly.  
  
“What is it, Zourvux?”  
  
“Just because I can't ask you to look at me doesn't mean I can't ask you to pay attention to me.”  
  
Tahl paused, a datapad still in her hand. Then, slowly, she set it down and turned sideways in her seat so her body was now facing Zourvux.

“Tahl, I know you feel this is important – and I know you are going through a rough patch at the moment but please. _**Get. Some. Rest.**_ Take a break. _Please?_ ”  
  
Tahl fiddled with the page of one of the ancient tomes for a moment before nodding at Zourvux. Or at least nodding in her general direction. Then she stacked her datapads, replicas and books neatly around her workspace.  
  
“Okay, Zourvux. If you insist.”  
  
Then she slumped forward onto the table and almost instantly dropped into sleep.

Zourvux stood there, watching her slight snoring with a mixture of incredulity and irritation. Her expression also looked like she had just forced herself to swallow a lemon. Then, shaking her head, she turned and walked towards the exit. She passed Jocasta on the way.  
  
“How many attempts is that?” Jocasta asked.  
  
“Entirely too many.”

* * *

 

**[The Jedi High Council Chamber, The Ouran]**

The Jedi High Council was assembled; well, except for Tyvokka. His seat sat empty. In the centre of the council chamber stood Plo, Tholme, Qui-Gon, Quinlan and Jace. Adi had taken her now-usual seat.

“You may be wondering why we called you back here” said Eeth hesitantly, “Quite simply, we can't wait any longer. Master Tyvokka is missing in action with no immediate prospect of recovery.”  
  
“As such, we are enacting the standard protocols and executing his will in a limited capacity,” added Even, “As you were all involved we felt it best you be here.”

They all nodded.  
  
Yarael Poof rose, carrying a small transparent cube. He placed it in a receptacle that rose in the centre of the chamber. He sat down again and after a moment the cube lit up and projected a life-size hologram of Tyvokka.

_< If you are seeing this, then I am either dead or missing in action. Personally I hope it is the latter. Or you are illegally accessing my will – in which case get out of my personal affairs, you monster. Now, onto business._

_My robes and lightsaber are The Order's property to do with as they wish. As are the majority of my personal belongings: Holocrons, datapads, furniture etc._

_I bet you're all glad that this will is going to be short huh?_

_I do however have some specific bequests._

_Firstly: To Master Plo Koon – I leave my personal journal of contacts. This is a dossier of every trusted contact I have built up over my life. Just say you're a friend of 'The Furrinator' and they'll help you out – no questions asked._

_Secondly: To Master Yoda – I leave my good back-scratcher. It should serve him well as a decent walking stick._

_Thirdly: To Master Depa Billaba – I leave a selection of Kashyyyk incenses. They always helped to relax me through stressful times. I get the feeling that Master Windu induces those on a regular basis._

_Fourthly: To Knight Ares Nune – I leave my dejarik table. Few finer ways to keep the mind sharpened._

_Fifthly: To Master Pong Krell – I leave my collected writings on the discipline of ambition and temptation. He should get some good insights out of them; hopefully he'll pass them on one day._

_Sixthly: To Knights Tiplee and Tiplar – I leave my personal training droids. Remember girls, getting fake-shot lots now makes it harder to get shot to death later._

_These are my only bequests._

_And I have one final piece of advice. If I am dead (and I sincerely hope I am not) then I will always be with you in a way; remember the fifth precept._

_But if I am alive and simply missing, then have faith that one day I might come back. Yes, I might come back. Until then, there must be no regrets, no whinging, no whining, no worries. Just, all of you hearing this, go forward in all your beliefs; and prove to me that I am not mistaken in mine._

_And Plo, >_

Tyvokka's hologram turned towards Plo at this, 'must have bio-scanners built in,' he thought.

_< Upon my death or disappearance, a place will open on the council. I think we both know that the council **is** going to offer it to you again. This is the last time I will say this: Take the damn seat._

_May The Force be with you all. >_  
  
The hologram faded.  
  
There was a moment's silence.

“Well,” said Oppo, “Master Tyvokka seems to have predicted us again.”  
  
The entire room was now looking at Plo.  
  
“What say you, Master Plo Koon?” said Yaddle, “ This time, accept the position of Jedi High Councillor, do you?”

Plo stood still, like a rabbit in the headlights, before finally drawing himself up to his full height, “I do, may The Force guide me in my task.”  
  
“Good,” said Oppo, “we can organise the contents of Tyvokka's will in the morning. Council adjourned?” the councillors nodded as one.

“Hey, Plo,” called Adi as she strode over to him, “congratulations. Want to keep me company – I've got to supervise a training exhibition now? Saesee's coming too.”  
  
“Why not, I could use a little distraction,” he replied, then turned his head towards Micah, “Micah? Care to join us? I don't believe you've properly met Adi yet.”  
  
After waiting a moment for Micah to catch up they headed to the lifts and in about fifteen minutes were on the main deck, striding towards the rotunda.

“So you're master to Stass' friend, Padawan Swan wasn't it?” Adi asked Micah.  
  
“Yes – she's doing well, has Padawan Allie recovered yet?”  
  
“Eh... she seems to have, but I really don't know for sure. I was present for her trial of the flesh; I can safely say it was probably the most unpleasant one I've ever witnessed.”

They entered the rotunda to find Obi-Wan and Siri, along with many other apprentices, laughing at Bant Eerin and Bruck Chun for some reason as they sat looking forlorn on the edges of the central arena.

“What are you two laughing at?” Adi demanded of Obi-Wan and Siri, “You're up next.”  
  
They stared at her, mouths agape with horror.

* * *

 

**[Castell, the Castell system]**

<Well, Mr. Stark, I hope your office is to your liking,> said Madame Presidente Shu Mai, <Allow me to be the first to welcome you formally to the Commerce Guild.>  
  
“Thank you, Madame Presidente,” replied Stark as he leant back in his luxurious swivel-chair that was better described as a 'swivel-throne' or perhaps 'swivel-recliner'. He propped his feet up on his solid diamond desk and admired the spectacular view of the Castell skyline from his gold-framed window.

All in all, he felt that taking the Jedi Master's offer had been the best move he ever made.  
  
<Now, just to be clear,> Mai continued, <you have my assurances that the Commerce Guild harbours no grudge towards you over that unseemly navicomputer business. We feel a man with your vision and quick thinking capabilities is a valuable asset to the Guild. If you have any further qualms, please do contact my aide,> she indicated to the other Gossam sitting to her left, <Cat here will be only too willing to set up an appointment – my time is often in great demand so you may have to be patient.>

“I can only imagine,” said Stark, “and I cannot thank you enough for this opportunity. I promise you I will not let you down.”  
  
<Good to hear. If there is nothing else?> she paused for a moment. Stark shook his head, <Then I shall take my leave – I have a treaty to renegotiate with the Sullustans.>

“'Twas an honour to be welcomed by the Madame Presidente herself,” said Stark. He stood and bowed until Mai herself had risen. They shook hands, then Mai turned and left. Cat following behind.

Stark slid off his new shoes with his feet and sighed as he leant back. After a moment he stretched, leaned forward and popped open the bottle of emerald wine that had been waiting for him on his desk when he was shown in. He could have had a droid or servant pour it, but that would have been insanely lazy. He poured a generous measure into a frankly unnecessarily large wine glass and took a sip. He turned his chair to admire the spectacular sunset view. Most residents of Castell were unable to admire it – only those who lived or worked in the highest floors or the farthest outskirts of the city had the elevation to make it out. Such positions were both expensive and insanely competitive.

'Hmm, would it be too indulgent to book a call out from the most expensive brothel in town on my first night?' he thought to himself. He mulled the idea over between sips, 'Ah, why not? I don't start work until next week. Guess this'll motivate me to work for the first bonus opportunity.'

He turned back to his desk's interface and looked up just such an establishment on the holonet. After memorising the transmission ID number, he quickly ran a custom virus to thoroughly expunge his holonet history – gotta keep his work record clean after all – and punched in the ID number to his communicator.

Nothing happened.

He tried again.

Nothing.

He tried once more.

Still nothing – not even an attempt to broadcast.

Stark frowned. He set down his glass and turned his chair to the window. Looking out, the power was still on in the city – judging by the lights. He flicked a light switch on his chair. No effect. He tried the building security on his communicator; again it failed to transmit.

He straightened up at this. He could only think of one reason for a top of the market penthouse and exactly that penthouse to be suddenly devoid of power and unable to communicate from.

He slid his hand into his desk drawer and drew out his blaster. He certainly wasn't stupid; upon arriving he had made sure it was the first thing he put in place.

He stood up.

The sun was now halfway down the horizon. The heating to his penthouse had ceased. He resisted the urge to shiver. His breath clouded in the air.

What? It shouldn't be that cold yet. Even if the heating had never been on, it shouldn't be anything approaching freezing. He turned slowly in a full circle, scanning his office. No movement, nothing.

 

 

And then.

 

 

A faint shape slowly emerged at the end of the hall. A vague silhouette.

“Iaco Stark,” it was not a question. The owner of the feminine voice knew exactly who he was, “We're going to have a chat.”  
  
“Who might you be?” Stark replied, trying to discern the roughly humanoid figure that was now walking slowly down the hall towards his office.  
  
There was an ever so slight intake of breath, as if she had been waiting for him to ask.  
  
“Can you guess?”  
  
“I've made a lot of enemies recently – but I'd say all this,” he gestured to the darkening room, “screams of Sith.”  
  
A small chuckle. It was haunting and wispy, like their voice. Then they spoke once more, with the faintest predatory tone now present.

“When Sith have nightmares, I am the face they see.”

 

 

“So... you're an enemy of the Sith?” asked Stark, tentatively.  
  
The figure slowly moved closer, “I wouldn't say that,” another small chortle sounded.Whoever they were, this person was playing with him, “But far more important is your little virus – it caused me a great deal of difficulty. Not a smart move to be frank. So...”  
  
Stark's chair slid back.  
  
“Let's have a little talk about that.”  
  
He sat, but kept his eyes focussed on the figure now in the doorway. The last glare of the setting sun pierced the dimness just enough to make out a little.  
  
The figure was definitely feminine, slender and had stopped, leaning on the door-frame.  
  
“Do I at least get the pleasure of knowing your name?” said Stark.  
  
“Ah, ah, a~ah,” the figure intoned softly, almost condescendingly, “ _I_ am the one here to ask questions, not you.”  
  
Stark raised an eyebrow, “Alright. But I will answer from a position of strength, if it is all the same to you.”  
  
He levelled his blaster at them, “This is not any ordinary blaster. It is a slug-thrower that fires a spray of cortosis bullets. Cortosis is a metal that disrupts lightsaber blades on contact – insanely expensive but I had a feeling I'd need it after my coup. Sith, Jedi, whoever. There's no blocking this after the first shot.”  
  
What happened next did not comfort him in the least. The figure gave a sharp intake of breath, but not as one would out of fear or shock. It was a gasp of excitement.  
  
“Very well, if it helps you sleep at night. By all means cling to your artefact,” came the reply, “First question. Did you actually think you were going to win your little war? You aren't the first person to try and topple the Republic.”  
  
“But I _was_ the first to try a coup in this fashion – in hindsight though, it was unwise to allow so many Jedi to attend the 'negotiations'.”  
  
Another small laugh, “As I thought. What you know is considerably less than what I know. You are _far_ from the first to try this kind of attack. The reason you never heard of previous attempts is _because_ they all became obscure footnotes in history. The concept is certainly a workable strategy – it's just you are simply unequipped to succeed where literally thousands before you have failed.”  
  
Stark frowned at this.  
  
“You probably haven't even figured out who you're dealing with yet. So go on, have a guess – do you have any idea who you're talking to? Who is _truly_ standing here?”  
  
Stark frowned even more and shook his head.  
  
“Then I'll be happy to enlighten you...” the figure stepped forward into the office as they spoke.  
  
Throwing the unmistakable features of Darth Phobos into discernible view in the dim sunlight.  
  
To his credit, Stark didn't hesitate. He pulled the trigger and a spread of bullets blasted at her. They stopped short of her and hung in mid-air. She gazed at him impassively.

The bullets dropped to the floor.

“I'm disappointed,” said Phobos, wagging a grey finger as if scolding a young child, “I'm not angry. I'm just disappointed. I didn't realise you actually thought your antique would stop me,” she walked towards him.  
  
Stark waited until she began to go round his desk before leaping to his feet.  
  
He ran around the other side and bolted from the office.

“Help!” he yelled out, sprinting with all he had to the left, “Help! Someone's trying to kill me!” He hammered the lift button waiting desperately.

'come on, come on!'

It wasn't coming. Stark was starting to sweat.

“I disabled the lifts. I'm also blocking anyone from hearing you,” Phobos was now leaning against the wall behind him. He turned and ran into his kitchen, ripping open one of the drawers and pulling out a top of the line meat carver. He brandished it at Phobos as she entered. She snorted, “Seriously? You really think that'll fare any better than the slug-thrower?”

She hefted the hilt of a double-bladed lightsaber onto the work-surface between them with an audible clunk, “Go ahead. See what happens.”

Stark dropped the knife and ran out of the kitchen.  
  
“Yeah. That's what I thought,” she called after him lazily before returning her lightsaber to her belt and pacing after him in a similar fashion.  
  
Stark ran back into his office; Phobos pulled the door shut behind her as she followed him in.  
  
She sat on the diamond desk and poured herself a generous measure of the wine as she watched him scramble to lift a portrait off the wall to the side.

He finally lifted the painting down, revealing a hidden exit. He flung the door open – only to stare at nothing but solid wall. He fell to his knees, still staring at his last hope.

He was trapped in his own office with a psychotic mass-murderer.

He screamed.

“I know, right?” supplied Phobos as she sipped her wine.  
  
Stark was now frantically trying to pull open the office door. It wouldn't budge.  
  
“I locked it when I came in. You really shouldn't leave keys in locks,” she waved the key in her other hand as she took another sip.

Stark was now clawing at the walls, the floor, anything to get away from _her_ , “Where are you trying to go?” she asked as she continued to sit on his desk and watched him curiously as he frantically tried to escape, “You're not leaving this room until we've had our chat.”

Stark suddenly abandoned his clawing, seized one of the chairs in front of his desk and flung it at the window. The glass cracked, but held, “Finally a rational decision,” Phobos continued, “Given my reputation, I can see why you'd want to end it quickly. But, unfortunately for you, health and safety concerns mean that glass in a skyscraper must be heavily reinforced – you'll need a _lot_ more than a chair to break through that.”

She stood up, “Now, are you done humiliating yourself? Shall we have our chat?”

Stark seemed to have given up any hope of escape and was now huddled on the floor by the window.  
  
Phobos sat down in Stark's chair and slid his drink across the desk to one of the remaining seats in front of it.  
  
She spoke again, her voice distorting while saying the last word, as if her larynx had drastically stretched while speaking it.  
  
“Come, sit. Let's just get alo~ oonng!”

Phobos waited until Stark fully calmed down and took the seat she had offered him before speaking, “You don't seem up to playing this game, so I will skip my little questions and get to the meat of the issue. My mission here is to send an unofficial message from the Sith. We are nobody's collateral. We do not tolerate attacks on us and _no-one_ ever gets away with crossing us. You will be our example, but I am willing to change that – based on your capabilities it would be a shame to waste you. If you can give me, here and now, sufficient recompense to the Sith or provide a better alternative person to make an example of. Choose your words wisely; if you fail to convince me then you will _wish_ I was here to simply kill you.”

Stark smoothed down his coat and sat for a moment, thinking. Finally he cleared his throat, “Well, I am a charismatic, influential and well connected man. I am fully willing to hook the Sith up with every criminal association from Kinooine to Belkadan, Lwhekk to Malagarr – I would act as your liaison, your front man. Also, I would also be willing to provide you with back-door access to influence The Commerce Guild using my new position.”

“Oh wow, that's a great offer!” Phobos replied, leaning back and putting her fingers to her chin, appearing to think only for a moment, “How about instead I shuffle the functions of every hole in your face?”

She clicked her fingers and Stark knew only pain and terror. He collapsed onto the desk clawing out at her. His drink was swept over, spilling its contents across the desk. Stark did not seem to notice this however, his only actions being flailing uncontrollably and making a noise somewhere between a muffled scream and a drawn out moan.

Phobos watched him writhe in agony and horror for a moment before standing up and downing her glass.

“Nobody fucks with the Sith. Nothing personal,” she said as she stood over him with a look of distaste. Then she picked up his bottle of wine – still about three quarters full – and strode out through his secret exit.

The wall he had seen before was not there – it had never been there.


	10. The Council Of First Knowledge

**[Instructors' Quarters, the Ouran, orbiting Falleen, the Falleen system]**  
  
“Loton, council session in five,” Zourvux called into the office as she walked past.  
  
Master Loton Hanta set down his datapad, “Alright, thanks.”  
  
He rose from his desk and pulled on his black cloak, drawing it around him and tying it closed. Everything he wore was black – black tunic, black trousers, black boots, black tabard – except the red and white striped sash at his belt that disappeared beneath his cloak as he tied it. He was a short, pale Icarii with vaguely longish brown hair which was kept swept back and tucked behind his ears. At the same age as Zourvux, his relatively smooth, boyish face gave entirely the wrong impression of both his age and character.  
  
He marched out of his office, ordering Brig to lock it as he closed the door. As he proceeded to the lifts, he found few people in the halls but had to quickly sidestep as Pablo-Jill came running past.  
  
“Padawan Jill,” Loton barked out irritably, Jill freezing in his tracks and cringing. “Kindly explain why you choose to treat these passageways as you would a smashball court.”  
  
“Er... well, you see..”  
  
“Yes?” said Loton icily.  
  
“Well, there's a training exhibition now in the Rotunda... and... I'm... kind of......... late.......” his answer slowly petered away into non-existence.  
  
Loton raised an eyebrow, “I see no-one else in these passages who is lagging behind. Would you agree then that the scheduling for the event is sufficient?”  
  
“Er... yes?”  
  
“Firstly, it is 'yes, _Master Hanta_ '. Secondly, do not answer my question with a question – your inflection of tone suggests you are asking me to give you your answer. I will do no such thing; answer my question with _your_ opinion please.”  
  
“Yes, Master Hanta,” replied Pablo, more confidently.  
  
“Well, if there is no problem with the scheduling, would you then also agree that your lateness is the fault of your inability to properly keep time in this instance?”  
  
Pablo's shoulders slumped a little, “Yes, Master Hanta.”  
  
“So then, please explain to me why _someone else_ should have to dodge _you_ when _you_ are at fault.”  
  
“They shouldn't, Master Hanta – I was in the wrong.”  
  
Loton nodded, “Good, you seen your error. Normally I would ingrain the lesson more but I have a council session to attend – if I do catch you committing a similar wrongdoing in the future then you _will_ receive proper punishment. Am I clear?”  
  
Pablo nodded, “Yes, Master Hanta.”  
  
“On your way then,” replied Loton and strode off once more to the lifts, leaving Pablo to contemplate his good fortune.

* * *

   
**[The Rotunda, the Ouran]**  
  
“Point to Siri,” Adi called as a droid clattered to the floor in the ring below. She turned to Qui-Gon.  
  
“Her form is excellent,” he mutedly intoned.  
  
“Yes, it is,” she replied, “But I wish she was less... eager.”  
  
“That is a lesson Siri must learn for herself,” said Saesee from Adi's other side.  
  
The six Jedi – Adi, Plo, Saesee, Micah, Qui-Gon and Kit Fisto were grouped around the edge of the ring, looking down at Obi-Wan and Siri as they attempted the trial that had thwarted Bruck and Bant. Ranik Solusar had already left.  
  
“Did you manage to cheer your padawan up?” Micah asked Kit – an upstanding, young, green Nautolan with a formidable chin and an ever-present smile.  
  
“Yes, I did in the end,” he said in his jovial Nautila tones, “told her about when I failed this test – pretty miserably at that. That got a smile out of her. She certainly smells a lot happier at any rate.”  
  
“Watch your footing, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon called down at his padawan before joining the discussion. “Padawan Eerin will be fine; she's rather thick skinned. A larger concern is Padawan Chun.”  
  
Micah grimaced, “He's a problem, that one. Master Sifo-Dyas has been having a lot of conversations with Ranik about Bruck. Personally, I think he was paired with the wrong master, simple as that.”  
  
“Were these conversations of the usual kind between those two?” asked Plo.  
  
“Most certainly,” said Micah, “The old married couple haven't changed a bit and I'm pretty sure I'll be dead before they do. Point still stands though; either Ranik needs to drastically change his teaching style or Bruck needs reassignment.”  
  
“Masters,” they looked over to see Aayla looking at them somewhat nervously, “Um.. could I ask you something?”  
  
“Well of course, my dear – you just did after all,” said Kit with one of his dazzling smiles.  
  
“Although, I'm afraid I won't be able to stay to hear your question,” said Micah, “I have a Council of First Knowledge meeting to attend. Good meeting you, Master Gallia, Knight Fisto.” with that, he left them and exited the Rotunda through the nearest door.  
  
“So what can we do for you, young Padawan?” asked Plo.  
  
“Masters... if death is just returning to The Force... is it... wrong to feel sad when someone dies?”  
  
“I got this,” said Adi and the others turned back to the ring. Adi took Aayla by the hand and led her to a nearby seat. She waited until Aayla was settled before beginning, “The Force flows through all life. It is the source of it. People never truly die – they just become one with The Force again, this is true. But they will remain as we remember them as long as they are remembered. As long as someone is alive to remember them, the dead are always with those who knew and cared for them in life. What we miss is the sound of a voice, the touch of a hand, a laugh, hearing their wisdom. It is good to mourn them; if those who die meant nothing to us, we would not mourn them.”  
  
“But... but I thought that, as Jedi. We aren't supposed to give in to emotions?” asked Aayla, sounding confused.  
  
“We're people, Padawan Secura,” said Adi. “We feel emotion just like anyone else – we can't just turn it off, nor would we wish to. A life of denying one's emotion is frankly unhealthy. No-one's asking you to stop feeling. What's important is that we don't let ourselves be _ruled_ by emotion. Does that make more sense?”  
  
Aayla nodded, “Yes. Yes, thank you Master Gallia.”  
  
“No problem,” chuckled Adi as she rose and ruffled Aayla's lekku.  
  
“OW!” started Aayla, pulling her head away and rubbing her lekku.  
  
“Oh, sorry! I didn't think...”  
  
“It's fine, Master Gallia” Aayla replied. From the other side of the arena, Stass kept a firm gaze fixed on the whole exchange.  
  
She twitched.  
  
“How do you think Kenobi and Tachi are doing?” came Agen from beside her.  
  
“Alright I guess,” she replied, not noticing his scrutinising gaze on her face.  
  
“Pity they're going to fail.”  
  
“Guess so.”  
  
“They have good form.”  
  
“Sure do.”  
  
“That was a good move.”  
  
“Yep.”  
  
“I mean it's not everyday you see two fifteen-year-olds snort _that_ many different drugs in one go.”  
  
“That's true.”  
  
Agen gave her a look, “Stass.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“You have no idea what you just agreed with. Do you?”  
  
“Probably.”  
  
“Stass!” Agen followed it up with a good pinch.  
  
“Ow! What the-”  
  
“Stass. You were doing it again.”  
  
“Oh,” her hands tightened on the balustrade. “Shit,” she stared at them, fighting to keep her breathing calm.  
  
It was a losing battle.  
  
Agen slowly reached over and took each hand off the balustrade, holding them in his and gently tugging her to face him, “Go and see her; she's there. Right there, for you.”  
  
Stass didn't say anything, her violet eyes gaped at him, as a rabbit in the headlights.  
  
“What if she hadn't come back from Troiken?” Agen continued, “What if she doesn't come back next time? Please. For me?”  
  
She took a deep breath in, then out again.  
  
“Alright. For you.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
Stass got up and began to walk round the edge of the arena, keeping her eyes fixed on Adi.  
  
She could do this.  
  
She could do this.  
  
Adi had by this point rejoined the other masters and they were once again engaged in light conversation as they kept keen eye on Kenobi and Tachi below.  
  
Stass could hear her own breathing; it was loud.  
  
She fought to calm it.  
  
No luck.  
  
She was close to Adi now.  
  
Her heart was pounding in her ears.  
  
Adi was mere feet away.  
  
She opened her mouth.  
  
And then Adi spoke, “So, do you want to tell them or should I?”  
  
“Please, allow me,” replied Qui-Gon, who then addressed the two padawans in the arena below. “You have both failed the exercise.”  
  
“My office now please, Siri,” added Adi, who turned and left the rotunda.  
  
Stass stared at where Adi had just been, her mouth still hanging open. She turned and looked at Agen across the room, who gestured insistently at the door Adi had left through. Stass sighed and began her slow plod in the direction of Adi's office.

* * *

   
**[The Council Of First Knowledge Chamber, the Ouran]**  
  
The Council Of First Knowledge was assembled.  
  
It was a fourteen-strong body of the order's finest, dedicated to the sole purpose of managing the education of all students of the order. Each member specialised to a unique field of expertise. Micah was the specialist on modern technology – advanced materials, computers and the like. He folded his cloak and draped it over the back of his chair before sitting down.  
  
“Alright, I know none of you are pleased by my calling this virtually notice-less session,” began Zourvux, the current Keeper of First Knowledge. “But there are some rather pressing concerns we need to address. First and foremost: I need to reassure all of you that no younglings or apprentices are unaccounted for in the wake of Stark's sabotage. Instructors is another matter entirely. Currently, thirty one Jedi in total are unaccounted for due to the sabotage. Three of them were instructors – Master Noro Zak, Master Ilena Xan and of course Master Tyvokka. Thankfully neither Noro nor Tyvokka were full-time instructors; Ilena's disappearance however is more problematic. We need another unarmed combat specialist; we were short-handed on them as it was.”  
  
“Do you have any suggestions?” asked Master Du Mahn – head of diplomatic training – from Zourvux's immediate left.  
  
“Tentatively, Pong Krell – but this is really more of Halsey and Sora's ballpark. Do either of you have any ideas?” Zourvux replied, turning her head to master Sora Bulq – the incumbent unorthodox combat expert sitting to the right of Micah – and then to Master Halsey Lev'Loa – the current Battlemaster two seats to her own right.  
  
“I'm not sure,” came Sora's soft reply, “Krell lacks the specialist knowledge, using his physique to his advantage mostly. It doesn't seem to have been especially popular in the last few generations, unfortunately. It appears to be getting some kind of resurgence in the current one – Youngling Jeisel, Padawans K'Kruhk and Allie for example show both interest and skill in the discipline. But I cannot think of anyone we don't already have instructing on it.”  
  
“Voolvif Monn, perhaps?” came Halsey's reply, “If we can convince him – which is rather doubtful.”  
  
There was silence for a moment as they all thought.  
  
“I have one suggestion,” came Even Piell's Lannik drawl from Zourvux' right. “The Dark Woman.”  
  
The reaction was both immediate and predictable.  
  
“ABSOLUTELY NOT!” shouted Bolla Ropal – the Holocron Loremaster – from Du's left.  
  
And then the entire council descended into shouting chaos. All except for Zourvux and Yoda – on Bolla's left. The two gave each other a look. Zourvux sighed; this was going to be a long session.

* * *

   
**[Unknown]**  
  
Tyvokka, gripped the joysticks as the cruiser plummeted through the atmosphere, trailing fire in its wake. He was uncomfortably reminded of the fate of The Invincible. He tugged harder. The craft began to slowly level out, ever so slowly. The heat shielding had failed some time ago and Tyvokka was very much wishing for the ability to sweat.  
  
'Come on... come on...'  
  
His ship was now about forty five degrees from vertical. Better, but not enough.  
  
There was a disconcerting wrenching sound. One of the few functioning readouts said that a large piece of the hull had been torn away. The ship began to spiral, down through the sky. He pulled harder still, the craft began to drift more and more towards the horizontal. Then one of the joysticks snapped off in his hand. Dropping the now-useless rod, he gripped the remaining stick with both hands, the ship was near enough level, but only having one functioning joystick was causing the ship to spin.  
  
Two more things happened very abruptly. First, the engine stalled, then died. Tyvokka didn't even have time to do more than widen his eyes before the second thing happened. The ship careened into solid ground and slid along it, ripping up rocks, trees and soil with an almighty crunch. After many frenzied seconds, the ship ground to a halt. Steam rose from the ship with a great hiss, accompanied by a sparking sound, followed by an entirely different hiss. Tyvokka was fairly sure what the second hiss meant, but greatly hoped otherwise. On the bright side he didn't seem to be dead, or even unconscious. He was at an angle though, about twenty degrees by his estimate. He hauled himself out of the pilot's seat, smashed his hand through one of the dashboards and pulled out the ship's homing beacon. The beacon's internal battery had enough power to outlive him; he pocketed it in his cloak. He stumbled to the door. He stopped briefly in the engine room to confirm the cause of the hiss.  
  
As he suspected, the hyperdrive had melted into a single twisted mass. His next stop was the supplies hold, which he raided of everything he could carry. Packing his haul into a backpack and two suitcases, he scoured the crew and passenger quarters for anything useful before kicking the mangled airlock door out of it's frame and jumped down onto the terrain below. He seemed to be in a forest of some kind – albeit a forest that now had a large gouge-mark in it. The air was filled with birdsong and the occasional calls of other creatures, none of which he recognised.  
  
He considered calling out in case anyone was nearby, but thought better of it; the last thing he wanted was to attract predators. Picking a trunk, Tyvokka swiftly climbed up and inspected the area. The forest was rather dense, most of the trees hundreds of metres tall with branches spanning and interlocking, creating a dense canopy. Except for the massive hole the ship had ploughed, at least. Even so, his ship wasn't even on the actual ground, it was lying on an under-canopy of savaged trees that seemed to extend much further down. If he had to take a guess, he suspected that the forest was at least five hundred metres high – possibly higher.  
  
The branches and leaves were so heavily interlocked that he felt confident they would hold his weight, like 'floors' constructed from plant growth, with soil, smaller plants and rocks packing on top. Gingerly, Tyvokka placed one of his feet on the 'floor' below. Indeed it held, even when he shifted his full weight and eventually his other foot onto it. He could see gaps here and there which should allow him to climb down, or up if he wished. Up would be easier, seeing as his ship had smashed a great chasm in the canopy.  
  
'Hmm, more likely chance of finding life nearer the sunlight,' he thought. He unsheathed his claws and began to clamber up the branches. In spite of his situation, he felt a small smile creeping onto his face – it was good to be back among the trees again. If there was one thing he missed about Kashyyyk, it was the dense forests. He did not get far however, before a great rumbling sounded. Pulling himself onto the sturdiest branch in view, he crouched low and looked down at the sound.  
  
The branches were moving, wrapping around the cruiser, ensnaring it. When they had the ship fully in their grasp, the branches squeezed – crushing it like a paper cup.  
  
'Well shit.'  
  
The forest made no attempt to attack him however, he could only suppose that they reacted to perceived threats.  
  
'That might make finding food an issue,' he thought, hoping that there were _some_ animals or plants that would not try to kill him for trying to eat them. He resumed his climb, stopping only when he arrived at a level that looked vaguely promising with regards to a society. A wet shape, painted on one of the trunks. Hopefully a civilisation, as opposed to an animal marking it's territory.  
  
Stepping onto the canopy floor, he straightened up and sheathed his claws. He took one look back at the gorge in the forest below. It was already smaller than it should be – the ship's mangled remains were completely buried under branches now. The forest was already regrowing.  
  
No going back now. He strode off across the canopy, away from the crash site.

* * *

   
**[The Council Of First Knowledge Chamber]**  
  
“Enough!” called Zourvux. Sure enough the clamour died down, albeit reluctantly. “Civility please; one at a time,” She turned to Yoda, “Yoda?”  
  
“Unorthodox, The Dark Woman assuredly is. Yet a Jedi, she still is. My trust, I would place in her – with observation,” he said.  
  
Zourvux then turned to Bolla, “Bolla?”  
  
Bolla sniffed, “That woman is a perversion of our very beliefs; to allow her to take a padawan is one thing, but teaching younglings? The thought sickens me.”  
  
Zourvux turned to Du Mahn, “Du?”  
  
Du fiddled with her shawl for a moment before speaking, “I think she is not _cruel_ , but I do feel she is more damaging than she means. I do not think she should be allowed to be an instructor; the greatest harm is often wrought through the best intentions.”  
  
Zourvux turned to the other side of her chair and addressed Even, “Even?”  
  
“I admit, she is a risky choice, but we need an unarmed combat specialist and like it or not The Dark Woman _is_ a capable Jedi with wisdom to impart. Not ideal, but she's all we have.”  
  
“Halsey?”  
  
“She's certainly qualified; and she has been a good friend to me over the years... Impartially however, I am unsure if she would make a good teacher or not.”  
  
“Jocasta?”  
  
“A Jedi is a Jedi. No matter how unorthodox. I trust her.”  
  
“Tera?”  
  
Master Tera Sinube, the Keeper of Records scratched his beak, thinking. Then he answered, “She gets a great deal of criticism – much of it I feel unwarranted. Yes, her methods are somewhat extreme but you cannot refute her results. She knows what she's doing and she knows what will be expected of her.”  
  
“Must I bring up her failure?” cut in Vokara Che, Chief Healer, with absolute venom, “It was a fairly critical failure-”  
  
“Vokara,” said Zourvux, sternly. Vokara scowled but fell silent. Zourvux continued as if there had been no interruption. “Loton?”  
  
“I don't like her, she is a walking violation of the code,” Loton said stiffly, “And that's all I have to say.”  
  
“L'lacielo?”  
  
L'lacielo Sageon, the aged Quartermaster replied without hesitation, “She's a good choice. Life is hard and she is very well adept at preparing students for that fact.”  
  
“Micah?”  
  
“I do not feel I can trust her, whether she is qualified or not. I cannot recommend someone I cannot trust.”  
  
“Sora?”  
  
Sora sighed sadly, “I believe she truly does follow the Jedi code and the good path. However, I am still concerned. Good intent or not, her teachings have backfired in the past and her teaching methods are... unsavoury. I am simply unsure I feel comfortable allowing her around children.”  
  
“Vokara? And please keep it civil.”  
  
“Reprehensible bitch,” growled Vokara with crossed arms.  
  
“Well, I tried. And Kossex?”  
  
Master Kossex, Head of the Starfighter Corps, tented her taught fingers before she delivered her verdict, “She unsettles me, I will admit, but I do trust her. I do not believe she would pose a danger to the younglings.”  
  
“You never saw some of the injuries I've patched up on her apprentices,” said Vokara sourly.  
  
Zourvux caressed her chin thinking.  
  
“You have a solution?” asked Loton.  
  
“Maybe. I'm not sure y-”  
  
She was interrupted by an urgent light flashing on her armrest. She pressed it and the figure of Master Miro Daroon, a senior tech supervisor and instructor, was projected in the centre of the room.

“Masters! I have received a transmission from Master Ilena Xan. Given the nature of your meeting, I felt you would appreciate the iriaz' mouth for this. Apologies for the interruption.”  
  
Everyone stared at the hologram.  
  
Bolla recovered first.  
  
“Yes, thank you Master Daroon. Put her on please.”  
  
The stocky image of a green skinned Reptilian Felucian burst into being in place of the now vanished Master Daroon. This particular Reptilian Felucian was standing on a pile of dead saurian animals – and was currently wrestling with one that was still alive. The figure wore grey Jedi robes and had the hilt of a lightsaber at her belt. This was Jedi Master Ilena Xan.  
  
“Sorry about the state of conversation,” she said, “But these things don't understand decorum.”  
  
The creature snapped at her with its jaws, prompting her to ram her thick fist down its throat.  
  
“Don't worry,” she said tersely, “I noticed that if you stuffed something down their throats, they can't close their mouths properly.”  
  
As if to prove her point, she lifted the creature – now hanging helplessly by the mouth off her arm and waved it around. Then she slammed her chunky fist – and by extension the creature's head – into the ground hard. The creature stopped moving. Master Xan straightened up.  
  
“I'm on Igia, folks; pick up would be appreciated. And an explanation as to why I didn't land on Abregado-rae like I was supposed to.”  
  
“There was a mass hyperdrive sabotage,” said Zourvux, “We'll send a shuttle.”  
  
“Cheers,” replied Xan, “Feel free to take your time – I got plenty to keep me company here.”  
  
As if to illustrate her point, a massive saurian biped, the size of a small house, with two thick legs, two stubby arms and a large mouth-full of teeth loomed into view on the hologram and snapped at Xan. She hopped backwards, then brought her fist square into the creature's nose. It recoiled in pain as Xan leapt up, propelling herself with the force and drove her foot down onto the top of the creature's head. It roared in pain and thrashed around as Xan held on by its teeth and slammed her considerable ham-fist repeatedly into the reptile's face.  
  
“See you when my shuttle arrives, my homing beacon has been activated. Master Xan out – I gotta concentrate. Oh and send a recording of this fight to my students with instructions to make notes on how to deal with large predators, please.”  
  
Then the transmission cut off.  
  
“Well that takes care of the long term,” said Zourvux, “but we still need a stand in until Ilena gets back. How about a compromise. The Dark Woman teaches via hologram under supervision until Ilena returns?” There was a general murmur of begrudging concession from the sceptics.  
  
“Fine. But who will monitor?” said Loton, pursing his lips.  
  
Zourvux grinned, “T'Un.”  
  
“That puritan?” asked Bolla, leaning forward.  
  
“The very same,” she replied, her grin growing wicked, “All in favour?”

* * *

  
**[Masters' Quarters, the Ouran]**  
  
Stass was waiting outside Adi's office for her to finish speaking with Padawan Tachi.  
  
What did Adi even see in that girl anyway?  
  
She shook herself.  
  
She did not like those thoughts.  
  
<Padawan Allie,> Stass turned to see Master Roron Corobb striding down the passageway. <So sorry for the abruptness, but you have an urgent meeting with your Master, Master Norcuna and Padawan Kolar. You were supposed to be told earlier, but the hyperspace mess got in the way.>  
  
“Er, but I need to-”  
  
<I'm sorry Padawan Allie, but the meeting is both imminent and urgent. You must go now. You have a mission.>  
  
Her heart sank.  
  
<Don't worry,> said Master Corobb, <Whatever your business with Master Gallia, she will surely be available later. I must escort you to the briefing room.>  
  
“Yes, Master Corobb,” Stass said dejectedly – or maybe pouted would be a better descriptive.  
  
They both turned and walked down the passageway. When they reached the door however, they found the way blocked by a rather sour looking Master Shaak Ti.  
  
<Shaak!> exclaimed Master Corobb, <It's so good to see you back! I hope the hyperspace mess didn't cause too many problems.>  
  
Beside Master Ti, her padawan – a Geonosian girl who Stass didn't know – seemed beyond fuming. Master Ti herself just gazed right into Master Corobb's eyes for just enough time for him to realise he had not said something that was well received.  
  
“You will not believe the day we've been having!”


	11. The Road To Skako: A Koorivar, A Nautolan And A Zeltron All Walk Into A Bank...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not happy with this chapter - expect rewrites at some point in the future.

**[About fifteen hours ago, Skako, the Skako system]**

“Alright,” said Master Shaak Ti, “I just got the message from the mechanics, our shuttle is fully up and running again.”

She was addressing her padawan, Fe-Sun; a lanky, pale Geonosian with inquisitive, red eyes.   


<Bout time,> she replied, <I was beginning to wonder how much longer we'd be trapped on this world.>

She hopped up from the table she'd been waiting at and they both left the hotel. As they began to head down the street however, Fe-Sun tugged on Shaak's arm.

“What is it?” Shaak asked, turning towards her padawan. Fe-Sun pointed down a nearby alleyway. There was an Utai striding down it, followed by a crouching figure sneaking up behind him. The glint of a vibro-knife shone from their hand.

Shaak nodded at Fe-Sun, who spread her wings and took off silently into the sky. Shaak then dashed down the alley way, almost silently. The figure didn't hear her coming until She was right behind them.

“Drop the knife please,” she said over the figure's shoulder. The figure – a Vulptereen – turned quickly, slashing at her with the knife. Shaak dodged backwards, then swept her long sleeve over the Vulptereen's hand. The ensnared the knife clattered to the floor - one problem sorted. Apparently realising they were outmatched, the assailant turned and dashed after the Utai.

Which was when Fe-Sun landed on their head.

<Do yourself a favour,> she said as she stepped off them, <Don't get up.>

The Vulptereen made no effort to do so.

Shaak turned to the Utai, “Are you alright?”

<Yes... Yes, I think so. thank you Master Jedi,> he replied, sweating profusely. Shaak's eyes narrowed slightly.

“You do not seem to be _surprised_ by this attack. May I ask why that is?”

<Er.. well. I... suppose I could tell you, seeing as how you are Jedi. I am an inventor; I recently developed a new thought processor and am on my way to a demonstration for Arakyd Industries.> he hefted the securely locked case he was holding up to her. <The... issue... is that I was also approached by Czerka Corporation, who I turned down in favour of Arakyd. Czerka corporation is... well... _not_ known for it's scruples... >

“Oh, I am _well_ aware of their frankly _abhorrent_ management style,” replied Shaak with more than a smidgen of contempt.

<Yes... I had hoped I could get to Arakyd's headquarters discreetly, through back alleys and whatnot. But it seems, well, that won't be happening.>

Shaak levelled a piercing gaze at him for a moment, chewing her lip, before responding. “I shall escort you to Arakyd industries myself then, if you will permit it,” The Utai looked as through Life Day had come early. 

<Oh, thank you Master Jedi! Thank you! I, er... suppose we had better get going then.>

If she was going to be honest, Fe-Sun found the whole thing rather dull. A couple more attacks were made on the inventor as they escorting him. Mostly street ruffians so desperate they had resorted to killing for hire. A couple Twi'Leks, a Human, another Vulptereen. Things could have gotten interesting when a Thisspiasian charged them from a nearby rooftop, but he was clearly not experienced at fighting and was foiled by Shaak simply catching him with The Force and throwing him into some nearby bins. But no-one challenging. In little more than half an hour, the inventor had been safely delivered to Arakyd and he shook their hands fervently before walking into the building.

<So, can we go now?> Fe-Sun asked, stretching in a catlike manner.

“Yes, Fe-Sun,” replied Shaak, “Although I am concerned by how disinterested you are in the good we have done today.”

They were about halfway back to where they had started when they heard an alarm begin ringing and a loud crashing sound. They both looked at each other.

<What is it you keep saying, Master? 'The Work of Jedi is never finished'...> clicked Fe-Sun. They quietly darted towards the sound. They arrived at a statuesque building with a glass front - a bank of some sort. <Original. Can we have some imaginative criminals please?> Fe-Sun commented dryly.

Several local security officers were grouped outside the bank, the two Jedi approached them. As they neared the closest one, he turned to face them.

“Jedi? Good, we were beginning to think we were out of options. A group of armed criminals are holed up in the bank with hostages. We don't know how many of either,” said the rather stressed-looking Vulptereen. “They want someone to negotiate. Your help would be much appreciated – they've cut off surveillance and I'd rather not wait for their exit plan.”

“I see,” answered Shaak. She thought for a moment, tapping a beat on her chin with her fingers before speaking further. “Pull your people back. Their negotiator demand is just to stall time; lets see how they handle actually getting a negotiator.”

<Master?> asked Fe-Sun.

“I think I'd like to have a chat with these people. Tell me everything you know about the building, please.”

 

* * *

 

“I sense... four hostages... and... three assailants,” whispered Shaak as they crouched behind a nearby speeder outside the shattered front window. “Keep it quiet. Go in, find the hostages, get them out. Then we take the criminals.”

Fe-Sun nodded. They both crept round opposite sides of the speeder and slipped close to the building. Shaak backed herself against the wall by the front entrance, nodded to Fe-Sun, then marched into the bank. Fe-Sun waited a few seconds before fluttering her wings, then quietly flying up to the second floor and slipping in an open window. She was in a small office, haphazardly kept and freshly abandoned. A ghost office. She edged the door open and glanced out. A long corridor, empty. Flitting out, she remained in the air and fluttered quietly down the hall. She found what she was looking for after about a minute: a maintenance hatch. Made for cleaning and repair droids, not people, but Geonosians were rather flexible. Fe-Sun only had to contort herself slightly to fit into the shaft. She pulled herself slowly along it, taking care to keep as quiet as possible. Eventually she reached an access port at the end and slid it slowly open. A quick survey of the room confirmed that it was indeed the lift shaft the building plans had detailed. Fe-Sun pulled herself out and dropped into the shaft, taking flight almost at once. She drifted down to the elevator below and gently lifted away the emergency hatch. Dropping softly into the lift, she checked to see if the doors were closed. They were. 

Now for the tricky part.

She took her lightsaber from her belt and pressed the emitter against the floor, it was far from ideal but was the best means of muting the sound possible. She ignited the pink blade through the surface. 

She cringed.

'Was that too loud?'

She heard no sudden response, no shouting, running or any indication she had been heard. She quickly cut a circle in the floor, holding it from falling with The Force. Cautiously lifting it out, she slowly set it down beside her, then dropped through into the shaft below, returning her lightsaber to her belt.

She glanced at her timekeeper. 

This was taking too long; she wasn't sure how long Shaak could keep the two in the lobby distracted. 

She was going to have to do something completely against her instincts.

A shudder ran through her body at the mere thought of it. 

She took a deep breath, every spiracle in her body tightening for a moment.

Fe-Sun furled her wings and dropped like a stone.

Horrible.

She felt the air rushing around her, the horrible pull of air resistance, the feeling of the ground rushing up to meet her.

She opened her wings and her fall arrested – not too quickly – but quickly enough to slow to a hovering stop just above the ground. 

Breathing out, she dropped to the floor. 

She was never. Ever. Doing that again. Had she at least shaved off some time? A glance at her timekeeper told her about a minute.

She darted up to the maintenance hatch above the lift door and scrambled in. After crawling along it for a while, she quickly, yet quietly flitted out and crept up to the balcony now directly in front of her. Looking out over the room below, she took in the large vault door. It was unsurprisingly open, with one of the criminals loading up one of many hover-trolleys with an assortment of valuable goods. Three of the hostages were grouped in front of the vault door, as Shaak had sensed. She fought to stifle the mocking laughter she longed to throw his way. That would not end well - lots of head-giblets.

Suddenly a two-way viewscreen by the vault entrance came to life, displaying a view of the lobby. The criminal, a Nautolan man who looked to be in his thirties, stopped his loading and walked over to the screen. Visible on the screen was Shaak standing in the middle of the lobby, the other two criminals – a Koorivar and a Zeltron – and the remaining hostage.

_“Three, we have ourselves a negotiator here. If she tries anything, put a shot into one of them.”_

**[A little earlier, in the lobby]**

Shaak strode across the glass floor, her long robes billowing around her, hands drawn into her sleeves - but not for warmth.

“Attention. This is your negotiator speaking,” She called towards the criminals across the lobby, “What are your demands?”

The apparent leader, a masked Koorivar who looked a tad worn out, placed his blaster against the head of a Vulptereen hostage.

“That's far enough.”

Shaak stopped walking. She was now in the centre of the lobby. A glass, helix staircase emerging from the lower floor stood between them. If she was honest with herself, she had been hoping for better.   


“Who are you?”

“My name is Shaak Ti. Who are you?”

“That doesn't matter. We want transport. We want the authorities to back off.”

“Well then, you are going to have to give us some concessions,” said Shaak, “We need some guarantees for the safety of your hostages.”

He seemed taken aback at that. Good. An off footing could give her exactly the right opening.

“We hold all the cards, we don't need to give you anything.”

“You asked for a negotiator. This is how negotiation works – compromise. Give and take. We will get you some space and some transport, but we need a show of faith on your part. Were you not serious about negotiation?”

He hesitated for a moment before replying.

“What kind of _compromise_?”

“Simple. Am I to assume that you have more hostages than this poor fellow?”

He nodded.

“Well then, give me him in good faith, and I shall see about you getting you breathing room,” Shaak put just a smidgen of the mind trick into her request. She couldn't do the full thing without waving her hand though – that would give her away.

He thought about it.

He thought about it for a long time. Shaak leant on the bannister of the staircase. Behind him, one of his accomplices – a Zeltron woman – flicked her eyes between them.

After what seemed like an age he nodded to the Zeltron. She pressed a button on a remote. A two-way screen on the wall to the side turned on. Shaak stood up straight and turned her gaze to it. There were three more hostages bound on the screen, kneeling. A masked Nautolan was picking up a weapon and turning towards the screen.

“Three,” the Koorivar said to the Nautolan, “We have ourselves a negotiator here. If she tries anything, put a shot into one of them.”

Three nodded and levelled his blaster at the head of the nearest hostage. The Koorivar turned back to Shaak.

“Alright. We'll let this one go. No tricks.”

“Would not dream of it,” Shaak smirked through her predatory teeth.

The Koorivar poked his hostage with his blaster.

“Up. Slowly walk over to her.”

He stumbled to his feet.

Slowly, very slowly, he shuffled across the glass floor.

The only sound was the tapping sound of his feet.

Shaak took this time to discreetly study the room. Not much of use. Booths, nice wall decorations, fire suppressant system, a lot of glass. What is it with banks and glass?

Nothing especially useful at any rate.

She locked her eyes on the frightened hostage as he moved closer and closer towards her.

When he finally reached her, she took his hand and looked him straight in the eye.

“Walk to the entrance and leave. Now. No matter what happens, no matter what you hear, do not turn back. Understand?”

He nodded nervously, before continuing.

Shaak pulled out her comlink.

“Attention, Captain. Back your men away, I have negotiated the release of one hostage in return for reduced security presence. The hostage is coming out now.”

_“Confirmed ma'am. Backing off.”_

“They will release the remaining hostages in return for transport away from this place.”

_“Understood,”_ came the reply, _“We'll prepare transport for them now.”_

Shaak looked back to the Koorivar, painting an allegedly warm smile onto her face.

“There, you see. There is no need to be twitchy; this will all be over soon.”

Fe-Sun watched the screen closely. Soon enough, Shaak had their full attention. 

'How does she do it?', she silently pondered as she began to formulate a plan of attack. The mystery of Shaak's charisma could wait - there were heads that needed not-exploding. Fe-Sun gazed around the room looking for anything potentially useful. In short order she found a few things; firstly, the mute button on the screen. She could trigger that with The Force, but what then? She then spied a systems computer near the vault. From what she could _see_ , it gave access to basic major systems – silent alarm, normal alarm, deadlocking the vault, fire suppression, security cameras and so on. The beginnings of a plan sprouted in her mind. She quickly dipped her hand over the railing, stretching down into the view of the screen. She saw Shaak's eyes briefly flit to it then return almost instantly to the Koorivar.

Fe-Sun hand-signalled, [Keep distracted,] to Shaak and quickly withdrew the hand before anybody noticed.

She then scrutinised the weapon in the Nautolan's hand. She couldn't quite see the power pack. Fluttering her wings, she lifted off from the balcony and hovered around until she had a better angle. She held out each hand, directing one towards the power pack and the other towards the mute button.

'Three, two, one'

Two simultaneous, quick pushes with The Force.

Simultaneously, the mute button depressed and the power cell popped out.

The Nautolan looked at his weapon, confused.

Fe-Sun fluttered down behind him as he started to bend down.

Before he could pick the power pack up, she body-slammed him.

“What the-”

The hostage frantically crawled away as the Nautolan leapt to his feet.

He swung his weapon at her – she quickly darted backwards.

Quick as a flash, she drew her lightsaber out and slashed the blaster in half.

He tensed, then dropped into what looked to be an opening stance of some kind.

<Give it up,> said Fe-Sun, pointing her lightsaber at him. <You've lost. There's no need to resist.>

He blinked at her.

“Huh?” he asked confused.

<Give up,> she repeated.

He stared at her, then shrugged.

“Look I don't got any idea what you tryin' to say, but I ain't goin' down easy.”

Fe-Sun started. Of course. He didn't understand Geonosian.

She quickly began to sign, only for him to duck under her blade and rugby-tackle her. Her lightsaber hilt spun to the floor as he wrapped his arm tightly round Fe-Sun's neck. Apparently her plan had a major flaw. 

Okay, maybe several major flaws. She struggled to free herself from the headlock. She jabbed her elbow into his gut – _that_ made him drop her. Capitalising on her sudden freedom she took off into the air. She reached out with The Force and lifted him off the ground. Then slammed herself feet-first onto him.

Before he could recover, Fe-Sun freed one of the hostages of their binders and cuffed the Nautolan.

After freeing the other two, she walked over to the computer and kept one eye on the screen. Then she had another idea. She waved a hand at Shaak and signed her idea quickly.

On the other end of the screen, Shaak discreetly nodded back.

“What was that?” the Zeltron snapped suddenly at Shaak.

Apparently not discreetly enough. It was time to end this before they cottoned on.

“You made a good effort of this,” Shaak said, “But your plan overlooked one critical part.”

Both assailants were pointing weapons at her again, suddenly much more wary. With very good reason, admittedly, but that was about to be their problem.

“And what part was that?” demanded the Koorivar.

“The part where this happens.”

A blue lightsaber blade ignited, beneath her sleeve, into the floor. The glass floor. Both criminals fired at her, but it was far too late. The section she stood on shattered, dropping her to the floor below, shots passing far over her.

Suddenly alarms blared and the fire suppression system activated, filling the room with viscous gas in mere seconds. Perfectly breathable, but a perfect smoke-screen.

To his credit, the Koorivar took less than a second to figure it out. He looked at the screen showing the vault.

“They've freed the hostages! We need to get ou-”

Then the glass panel under the Koorivar shattered and Shaak erupted from the floor below in a billow of smoke and cloth. Her shoulder ploughed into his chin. He was knocked backwards onto the next panel, safe but subdued. One down, one to go. Shaak paused only to destroy his blaster before dashing after the now-fleeing Zeltron.

She couldn't see her, but she could certainly sense her.

The Zeltron was leaving the bank. Shaak dashed out a side entrance just in time to see her zooming away in a commandeered speeder.

'A pity. The authorities will have to deal with her,' she thought.

 

* * *

 

[About an hour later.]   


Having forwarded the paperwork to Shaak's office and making sure the two remaining criminals were taken into custody, she and Fe-Sun were finally on their shuttle and lifting off. Shaak guided the craft into the sky and into space, setting the navicomputer for Skako.

<Well, I can't say I'll miss Vulpter,> chirped Fe-Sun, <gun it, Master>

Shaak raised an eyebrow – or more accurately her Frontalis muscle arched on one side.

“ _Gun it_? Is that slang... or...?”

Fe-Sun groaned painfully, <Yes. Yes it is. Just... just go.>

Shaak pulled the lever and the shuttle shot into hyperspace. She turned to face Fe-Sun. It was time for a conversation Fe-Sun had been avoiding for weeks. But now, now there was no escape.

“So, have you had any ideas?”

<About what?>

Shaak made a mental note to teach Fe-Sun how to lie properly.

“Have you decided what _kind_ of Jedi you want to be?”

<Oh. That,> Fe-Sun turned to look out at the blue vortex. <I'm still not sure. What do you think I should be?>

Shaak smiled shrewdly, “What do _you_ think you should be? I am not here to tell you where your destiny lies.”

<So what _are_ you here for then? > asked Fe-Sun.

“I am _here_ to try and give _you_ the tools to find out for yourself; and to be at least halfway good at it. Does martial skill attract you? The idea of being able to defend yourself and others with maximum effectiveness – as is the way of the Jedi Guardian. Or perhaps you prefer to think-talk? Negotiate, mediate and ponder the higher mysteries of creation – the way of the Jedi Consular? Maybe you find pragmatism to be more to your liking? Cunning and practical skills are very useful for ferreting out your foes – this being the path of the Jedi Sentinel. Or possibly even the drive to explore is your calling? Delve into the unknown, seek what has not been sought, find what has not been found – the way of the Jedi Adventurer. And of course, on top of this, there are the other specialisations available; Healer, Technician, Ace, Weaponmaster, Investigator and more. So tell me; What is it that drives you.”

Fe-Sun stared into hyperspace for a long time. Was she stalling?

Eventually, <I... think... I should be a->

They were interrupted by a great crunching sound and an explosion. The ship dropped out of hyperspace, a small fire blazing on its starboard side. Shaak turned, quick as a flash, to the controls.

“We hit a mine! The hull and life support are fine but our hyperdrive is a mess.”

They were drifting. Dead in space. Absolutely wonderful.


	12. The Road To Skako: Bloody Pirates!

Shaak and Fe-Sun gazed out of the viewport into space. Overhead, a frigate flew into view over the ship. It was somewhat ramshackle and looked as if it had been repaired several times – very roughly at that.

“Pirates,” said Shaak, “This does not appear to be our day.”

<Wonderful,> said Fe-Sun. <So, we take these guys down and go on our merry way, right?>

“I'm afraid it won't be that simple,” Shaak replied with a frown. “If we put up resistance, there's nothing stopping them just blowing our ship up – with us in it.”

Fe-Sun stared at Shaak.

<So... what do we do?>

The frigate was coming closer now, drawing their shuttle into its hangar bay. Shaak pondered for a moment.

 “I... think,” she said slowly, “I... _may_ have a workable idea.”

 

* * *

 

The shuttle was guided in and set down on the hangar floor. A large, but ragtag mob of pirates swarmed around it and levelled their weapons at the closed entry gangway.

“What did we snare?” asked the frigate's captain as he strode into the hangar.

“A Slayn & Korpil T-6 shuttle, sir; it hit one of our mines.”

“I see,” he stroked his chin with his nigh-triangular taloned fingers thoughtfully. He was a tall, gaunt, slender Falleen dressed in elegant purple, grey and golden robes. He looked thoroughly out of place on a pirate ship. He looked more akin to a rich connoisseur. Or a politician.

Or a Prince.

“Marvellous piece of engineering, the T-6,” he continued. “The Verpine are truly impressive shipwrights. The T-6 is usually favoured by diplomats, the incredibly wealthy and The Jedi Order. I suggest you all pray we are not dealing with the latter. Force the gangplank down.”

Two of the pirates warily approached the gangway when it suddenly lowered with a hiss. Shaak strode down it purposefully, followed by Fe-Sun.

“Greetings,” she addressed the mob of pirates, “I am Jedi Master Shaak Ti. May I ask who is in charge here?”

“That would be me,” said the captain.

“Ah. Well, thank you ever so much for our rescue – I was concerned we would be lost in space for good. It is most fortunate that you happened upon us.”

The pirates glanced at each other, confused. Surely she couldn't be that clueless.

Right?

The captain however didn't even bat an eye.

“You are quite welcome,” he said impassively, “We shall have quarters prepared for you. In the meantime, would you and your – Padawan?” he glanced at Fe-Sun, who nodded, “ – care for refreshments?”

Shaak smiled. Like a tiger.

“Yes, yes I would. Thank you.”

Instantly several of the pirates marched off – presumably to prepare the aforementioned guest quarters – and those remaining lowered their weapons. As the captain guided their 'guests' out of the hangar, the pirates began to quietly speculate on whether these Jedi were genuinely this stupid.

 

* * *

 

“I trust you are comfortable?” asked the captain as Shaak and Fe-Sun settled into cushy armchairs.

“Yes, thank you,” Shaak replied, “Tell me, do you understand Geonosian? Or will it be necessary for me to translate for my padawan?”

“I know enough.”

He nodded to his assistant – a blonde, pale woman – and she placed drinks on the small table between them all. The assistant then took a seat beside the captain.

“So, if I may ask,” began Shaak, tenting her fingers “What, exactly, is a person of your stature doing captaining a pirate ship?”

“Ah, yes. The question that has stalled the execution of your doubtlessly cunning escape plan,” the captain smiled wryly. “the political landscape at the moment is... tumultuous. Someone is making a play, a bid for control. The easiest method of evading the volatile situation is to... fade into the background. At least for a while.”

The captain's assistant had seemingly lost interest in the conversation, turning her gaze on Fe-Sun. Her eyes seemed to bore into F-Sun, as if analysing her. If Fe-Sun had to guess, she could only assume the assistant had never seen a Geonosian before. It was unnerving. Fe-Sun distracted her nerves by beginning to drink.

“So you have turned to an insignificant pirate operation under Black Sun?” said Shaak.

“It passes the time. My role as a prominent member of Black Sun would place me firmly in jeopardy. Underlord Alexi Garyn appears to have angered someone greatly – I find it prudent to simply... sit out of the higher echelons of Black Sun until he removes his opponent or is removed in turn.”

That got Shaak's attention.

“Who could possibly be willing to risk all-out war on Black Sun?”

The captain took a sip of his drink before responding. When he did, his face was utterly rigid. Locked, devoid of emotion.

“Some suspect the Sith Empire – due to Black Sun's involvement in The Stark Commercial Combine. However this does not quite add up, seeing as the hostility towards Black Sun predates those events. I have arrived at a different conclusion, having carefully studied the situation. Revealing the identity of the chief conspirator, however, would paint an impressive target on my back. So I am not going to do that. I will give you a hint, seeing as it suits my interests for the Jedi to 'scatter the birds'. Look at the Intergalactic Banking Clan closely enough and you may find something rather...”

He paused for a moment and took another sip.

“In _Sidious_.”

Shaak regarded his words for a moment. Then she downed her glass.

“Interesting. So may I ask what happens now?”

“Quite simple. When we arrive at our next destination we shall leave you to be picked up by the Jedi Order with your morsel of intelligence.”

“I am afraid that's not going to work,” said Shaak setting her face firmly. “I am needed on Skako and I want my ship back.”

“Your ship is now my profit and your business on Skako is not my concern,” replied the captain, “If you try to resist, you will be subdued.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” Shaak made to get up, only to sway dizzily. She teetered for a moment, before tottering over back into her chair.

“Quite simple, Master Ti. Falleen are capable of using pheromones to addle the minds of others. It seems to work on Togrutas.”

He shifted his gaze to Fe-Sun who had leapt up.

“Although less so on Geonosians.”

Fe-Sun's vision was hazy, but she could still make out roughly what was going on. She reached for her lightsaber. Suddenly the assistant rammed her fist very firmly into Fe-Sun's abdomen. Fe-Sun doubled over in pain, dropping her lightsaber hilt. She tried vainly to swing at the assistant. The assistant easily dodged, then grabbed Fe-Sun by the head and slammed it into the table. Fe-Sun was able to make out Shaak struggling to get up again before blackness overtook her.

 

* * *

 

Pretty colours swam around.

Fe-Sun dimly remembered an abstract painting she'd once seen looking rather similar to what she saw now.

Wasn't she doing something?

Something important...

She remembered being on a ship.

Then an explosion.

Then...

…

Suddenly it all came flooding back and she sat bolt upright. Only now did she realise she had been lying down. On a soft bed at that. Looking around, she appeared to be in a luxurious, yet modest cabin.

'Huh. So that captain at least kept his word,' she thought.

She gingerly got off the bed and explored the room. The door was of course locked; there was nothing especially useful in the drawers, just clothes; the viewport let in a bright glare. She crossed to the viewport and looked out. Below was a cityscape; it extended as far as the eye could see. It was unusual in that it was mostly stonework, virtually no metal or concrete. Everything was all geometric shapes and monolithic. Fe-Sun guessed the ship was a few kilometres above the surface. They appeared to be descending.

Suddenly there was a tapping on the far wall. Fe-Sun crossed to it and pressed her ear against it.

Mon Calamari Blink Code.

[Fe-Sun?]

[Yes] she tapped back.

[It's me, Shaak. I sensed you coming round. Stay calm; I have this under control.]

[How? How is _any_ of this under control?]

[Oh ye of little faith.]

There was a shuffling sound and then silence.

[Hello? Are you still there?]

Nothing.

Fe-Sun frowned. She could sense her master, but she wasn't answering. There was no feeling of pain or discomfort; so she had to be fine. Fe-Sun shrugged, then scrutinised the door. It was firmly locked. There was a lock, but she hadn't the faintest idea how to pick it. With her options seemingly exhausted, she settled down cross-legged on the bed and began to meditate. She had the feeling that she'd been concentrating on something important before the hijacking... what was it?

Ah yes.

The type of Jedi she wanted to be. That was it.

What had she decided upon again? It eluded her.

'Hmm.'

Minutes passed. It continued to elude her.

Then...

She almost had it... almost.

Nearly.

She was broken from her thoughts, however, by a sudden clattering. Opening her eyes, she looked up to see the door sliding open. Shaak was standing on the other side, twirling a spent security spike between her fingers and smiling faintly.

“Today's lesson, my young padawan, is twofold: Firstly, let your enemy think you have lost so they do not realise that you are merely waiting to strike. Secondly, remember to not neglect your physical skills; far too many Jedi have met their end due to being unable to open a door or repair their ship.”

Fe-Sun blinked.

<Woah.>

“Are you coming?”

<Uh, yes Master. But what about the guards?>

“Ah yes; them... I tried to reason with them but unfortunately they had to be subdued. Painfully.”

Fe-Sun got up and join Shaak in the passageway. About a dozen figures were slumped outside, all either unconscious or in no condition to fight.

<You've got to teach me how to do that...>

“All in good time, but now we need to disappear before backup arrives. To which I pose a question to you: how does one vanish on a large starship?”

<Umm... wait I know this... er->

“Clock's ticking,” added Shaak.

<Oh dammit! Fine, how?>

“Simple,” she reached her hand up and wrenched a grate down from the ceiling with The Force, “Air vents. Large-scale starships need roomy vents to avoid suffocation.”

She smirked craftily and they both jumped up into the open space.

“Oh. Damn.”

The shaft before them was criss-crossed with lasers.

<Well this captain sure knows what he's doing,> said Fe-Sun irritably.

“That he does. I certainly can't make it through there. You might be able to though. Want to try?”

Fe-Sun rolled her eyes.

<Sure, this can't possibly go wrong.>

“Oh believe me, it can- that was sarcasm wasn't it?”

Fe-Sun rolled her eyes again and nodded.

“We'll meet at the bridge. After our first conversation, I think we need another with our illustrious captain.”

<Sidetracked again? Can't we just grab our ship and go?>

“Not until we've found out all we can about this little plot and how it involves the Banking Clan.”

With that, Shaak dropped back down into the passage below.

“See you in a little bit,” she said with a smile and took off out of sight. Fe-Sun sighed and crawled along the shaft. As she went she contorted and twisted her body around the array of lasers. She really wanted to hum to herself – it helped her concentration. Air vents are not meant to hum however; so she kept quiet.

Up ahead was a rather tricky sequence, even for someone with Geonosian flexibility. Her abdomen was still somewhat tender and this was not helping. She steadied herself for a moment, then twisted herself upwards and over the first laser. Then she rapidly swerved her upper half immediately downward and almost backwards. Having evaded the second beam, she now slithered to the left of the shaft and edged round the third. Her legs carefully followed suit, following the trail. Even by her standards, this was pushing it a bit. Wings pressed firmly against her exoskeleton, bent almost back on herself and now partially corkscrewed against the left wall. She carefully wiggled through about five more beams before she found a gap and almost collapsed into the open space.

Beneath her was a grate; looking down into it appeared to be an armoury. She quietly pulled the grate away and slowly lowered herself into the room head first. Looking around, she couldn't see anyone. She could sense two guards outside but nobody else around. More importantly, on a crate lay her and Shaak's lightsabers. She quickly summoned them both to her and returned to her little crevice in the vent.

'Well, that was convenient,' she thought as she studied her own hilt to check for any damage. It appeared fine, as did Shaak's. Then klaxons sounded everywhere and shouts ran out all across the ship.

 

* * *

 

If she was honest with herself, Shaak had hoped that she could get closer to the bridge before being discovered. No matter. She summoned the unconscious guard's blaster to her hand and peered around the corner. She quickly withdrew it as a torrent of beams sprayed her way. Crouching behind a metal support, she took stock of her situation.

As far as she could tell, she was inside some sort of mess hall. The bridge was, according to her now-unconscious companion, on the other side of it and the dozen-or-so pirates who were in there. The klaxon wasn't helping her think either. She could hear hurried footsteps approaching her from the direction she'd come. Not good; it was now or never. She closed her eyes, listening intently to the sounds her montrals picked up.

Her 'montrals' were her hollow horns; and were indeed doing her a great service currently. Able to echo sounds into her ears to amplify them.

Sixteen in total; most behind tables; all armed.

Quickly formulating a half-done plan, she waited until calls of 'did we get her?' began to sound.

Then she set her blaster to stun and ripped the support out with The Force.

It came free with a deafening wrench.

Before anyone else could do more than yell in shock, she flung the solid mass across the room and let off a wave with The Force for good measure.

Pirates scattered as tables, cutlery and, above all, the massive chunk of metal blasted their way.

Those who had believed themselves safe behind the tables were caught in the barrage. The few who evaded the spray of debris were scattering in shock.

Shaak quickly dashed across the hall stunning pirates as they scrambled to recover.

Even as they began to pick themselves up; it was too late. Shaak had already run through the exit door and locked it behind her. She put her blasted back to normal and sunk three shots into the locking mechanism.

'There. That should hold them for long enough.'

Then she set the blaster to stun again and turned to the door at the end of the passage. According to the guard, it _should_ be the door to the bridge. She pressed the side of her head against the door and listened intently.

A lot of panic. It certainly sounded big enough to be a bridge. Lots of computer sounds and possibly some kind of orders. Good enough.

She began to think up an attack plan, but was distracted by the unmistakeable hum of two lightsabers on the other side of the door. Suddenly a massive amount of blasterfire followed. Eyes widening, she blasted the door out of it's frame with the force and hurried in, crouching.

Fe-Sun was in the centre of the bridge – for it was indeed the bridge – and deflecting fire from all directions.

Before anyone could react to her arrival, Shaak sent another ripple through the air, bowling over pirates and began putting stunners in those nearby.

Seeing her, Fe-Sun used the moment's pause to fling Shaak's lightsaber towards her. Shaak summoned it to her hand joined the deflection. With two Jedi coming from two different directions; the pirates were simply unable to cope and began to drop like flies. In less than a minute, those who had not been taken down were giving up.

<What took you so long?> Fe-sun asked her.

“A room filled with pirates. Why did you not wait?”

<The vent gave way.> she replied. <I don't think they're made for crawling through.>

Shaak looked around the bridge. The captain and his assistant were no-where to be found. She turned to the most important looking pirate who was both alive and not unconscious.

“Where is the captain?”

“I dunno,” he replied, “He left about an hour ago.”

“Ah well.” She turned to the communications console and contacted the local authorities.

“Aha! We are on Empress Teta. That's a relief; when I saw the architecture, I was afraid we had landed on a Sith world.” She then turned to the p.a.

“ _Attention crew members. I am Jedi Master Shaak Ti. I have taken your bridge and locked the escape pods. Your captain has abandoned you. The Tetan authorities have been contacted and are on their way. It is not advisable to resist further.”_

Rather than wait for the Tetans to arrive, Shaak decided that they should reclaim their shuttle and move on. As they entered the hangar bay, however, they caught sight of their craft lifting off. Fe-Sun gaped incredulously as it flew from the hangar and out of sight.

<What the- BLOODY PIRATES!> Fe-Sun yelled as Shaak turned instead to another ship in the hangar.

“Calm yourself, Padawan. I am tracking the ship. I suspected we might be separated from it when they picked us up.”

Fe-Sun gave a pained sigh.

<Won't they just find the device and destroy it?>

“That's why I put _all_ my devices on board. I highly doubt they will find all of them.” Shaak said, smugly, as she marched up the boarding ramp. “I also disabled the sensory equipment, so it will be very difficult for them to detect us.”

Fe-Sun gave another sigh.

<More diversions. _Wonderful_. >

 

* * *

 

**[Kalist IV, the Kalist system]**

The Falleen captain approached the T-6 shuttle as it touched down in the hidden compound. It was built into the mountainside. The only sentient-made feature in the arid landscape.

The pirates turned to their captain and saluted as they exited the shuttle. The apparent leader of the group spoke to the captain.

“Sir, the Jedi escaped and overran The SEELE. But we managed to steal their ship for you!”

The captain stared at them incredulously.

“You fled from Jedi and you came _**here**_?” he said in dawning horror.

<Yeah, I know!> Cut in Fe-Sun as she fluttered down behind them. <What were these idiots thinking?>


	13. The Road To Skako: Bombshells

“They were thinking of finding other employment,” replied the captain, tersely. “We had our conversation, Padawan. Neither you, nor your master can connect me to anything. So I suggest you be on your way.”  
  
“Oh, we are far from done,” came Shaak’s voice as she strode into sight from behind a fuel tank. She would absolutely not be condescended bythis man. “Insidious. What does it mean? And how have you come about your information?”  
  
The captain sighed. Wasn't that supposed to be Shaak's thing?  
  
“Very well, if it will make you depart. I cannot reveal my sources, you understand. I noticed the shift in hostility towards Black Sun some time ago. I did not have a good idea as to the source – until recently. This mess with Stark was the equivalent of flipping over a political rock – in the scramble to avoid exposure, some interesting things came to my attention. Most notably a Senator and several fuzzy transmissions with Darth Jadus. Things became drastically clearer as this senator, I am reliably informed, is in firm opposition to King Ars Veruna of Naboo – a recent ally of Underlord Garyn.”  
  
Shaak frowned. She wasn't sure what she had expected, but Naboo was not it. “That could be a lot of possible senators; Veruna is rather controversial. Who is this senator?”  
  
“If I were to tell you,” said the captain, “I suspect I would not live to the end of the week. There is one more thing I could tell you: I suggest you take a firm look at Muunilist. Specifically, The Intergalactic Banking Clan and its lobbyist groups. I shall say no more. Now kindly take your ship and depart.”

 

* * *

  
**[Hyperspace]**  
  
<You’ve been quiet… since we left Kalist,> began Fe-Sun, <I’m… not especially good at this but… do you want to talk about it?>  
  
Shaak drew herself from staring out into hyperspace to turn her attention back to Fe-Sun.  
  
“Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just,” she paused, searching for the words. “We’ve always been prepared for the possibility – of the Senate being infiltrated. It’s… it’s just that now we’re here, now that it might be happening. It brings with it, well, the possibility of an end to the ceasefire.”  
  
<We have to fight them though,> replied Fe-Sun, <right?>  
  
“Well, yes, we will. But,” she sighed, how many sighs had she made lately? “You weren’t there last time, it was… horrible, to put it bluntly. I would not wish it on anyone, much less you and the other Padawans.”  
  
<Is that wholly it?>  
  
Shaak stared at her for what seemed to be an aeon. She was... honestly stunned. Wasn't it supposed to be _her_ making the sage observations of Fe-Sun?  
  
“You’re growing up,” she said, finally. “I suppose not. I suppose, _I_ don’t want to go back to what was. I will not lie to you, Fe-Sun, it was bad back then. Not as bad as the Republic Dark Age, about halfway through the war, but it was still nasty. Even with Yoda, Depa and the like, every day seemed like it would be the end. Like any moment the Sith would drop into Coruscant and scatter us, as happened in the Great Galactic War.” She shook herself, lekku flapping slightly. “Sorry, I’m being morbid. Let us get back to-”  
  
As if on cue, a beeping occurred from the controls – an incoming transmission. Shaak was now certain that The Force was laughing at them.  
  
<Oh what _now_? > snapped Fe-Sun.  
  
Shaak pressed a button and a hologram of a Republic officer burst into life.  
  
_“Master Ti? Are you available to divert course to Chandrila? A child of the senatorial Mothma family has been kidnapped.”_  
  
Shaak frowned. Was this, _really_ necessary?  
  
“Can Chandrila’s watchman not handle the situation?”  
  
_“Afraid not, Master Jedi,”_ continued the officer, _“Master Shaptives is tied up with Sennex slavers at the moment and every second the Mothma child is missing makes it less likely to find her.”_  
  
“Acknowledged, I and my Padawan are on my way.”  
  
The hologram shut off and Fe-Sun slammed her head into her head rest. It probably wasn't good for her, but Shaak felt that such advice would not be well-received.  
  
<Ugh. No, no, no… do we _have_ to? > she demanded of Shaak.  
  
“I am afraid so,” said Shaak, wearily. Sighing, she adjusted course and in mere moments, they were flung out of hyperspace above Chandrila to face whatever The Force had come up with this time. Whatever it was, it had better be worth it.

 

* * *

  
**[The city of Hanna, Chandrila, the Chandrila system]**  
  
“So as you can see here, the kidnappers left quite a mess,” said the officer as Shaak and Fe-Sun gazed around the ransacked bedroom. Overturned furniture, scattered datapads, clothes strewn across the floor – although Shaak doubted the clothes were a result of the kidnapping.  
  
The victim was fourteen-year-old Mon Mothma – barely a blip on the political radar due to her age. Her parents were another story however, being heavyweights in Chandrila’s power structure. Which, if Shaak's years of experience had taught her anything, was generally suspect at best.  
  
After taking everything in, Shaak crossed to the ripped-open window and inspected it.  
  
The view of the glittering skyscrapers in the morning sun was pretty, as were the hilly meadows and forest on the horizon, past the city’s borders. Shaak would be willing to bet that the price of this view could feed a town for decades.  
  
“How many stories up is this?” she asked the officer.  
  
“Two hundred and…” he glanced at his datapad, “twenty three. The family says the kidnappers used a speeder. Flew in, smashed through the window and dragged her, kicking and screaming, off.”  
  
“Hmm…” Shaak scratched her chin, “I think it would be a good idea to know who The Mothma’s political opponents are.”  
  
They left the room and descended to the lounge, where the girl’s parents were waiting nervously. The mother was keeping a fair poker face, but the father seemed close to hyperventilating. And neither seemed surprised by the situation - a red flag so red it matched Shaak's skin.  
  
Master Shaptives had forwarded his files on The Mothmas to Shaak. The mother, Tanis Mothma, was governor of Hanna and something of a political mastermind with 'more fingers in various pies than she should logically have fingers'. She was, however, on good terms with Shaptives and had frequently provided extremely useful contacts. The father had a reputation as a ruthless diplomat and notable philanthropist - less interesting, but less suspect.  
  
Shaak also caught a sense of… something. She wasn’t quite sure what. Fe-Sun seemed to sense it too and was looking around her as if expecting to find something.  
  
Shaak motion for Fe-Sun to stop peering intently at a grandfather clock as if it was withholding information.  
  
Time to probe.  
  
“There is something you are not telling us,” she said to the two, bluntly. “And I mean aside from the usual politician deception.”  
  
Everyone – even Fe-Sun – looked taken aback. It seemed that they would need their hands help through this.  
  
<What makes you so sure?> Fe-Sun asked.  
  
“Their body language; see how they are distraught but at the same time definitely not surprised,” Shaak replied, then fixed her eyes sternly onto the two parents. Her death-glare couldn't quite match the monolithic gaze of nightmares she'd seen Master Windu use, but in her own humble opinion, it was adequate. “Crestfallen, resigned and, in the case of the father, in panic – as one would be on hearing that a dying person has died. The two of you know exactly who did this and why.”  
  
Tanis, pursing her lips, spoke up.  
  
“We _may_ have had… ostensible disagreement with The Centis lately over… certain policies.”  
  
“Ostensible?” said Shaak, shrewdly.  
  
She and her husband glanced at each other. Shaak had seen such glances before – extensive, non-verbal debate in mere seconds.  
  
Apparently winning the unvoiced discussion, Tanis spoke again.  
  
“It’s possible,” she began, “that certain favours were… heavily implied in return for… our disagreements carrying weight in public discourse-”  
  
“What did you, or did you not, promise The Centi family,” snapped Shaak, “as bribery to enforce your will on the people? I am _not_ in the mood to entertain political intrigue – must I remind you that your daughter is in danger?”  
  
It was possible she was coming across harshly. It was more possible  
  
The father spoke up this time, “The Centis second son has been… getting along swimmingly with Mon as of late… we and his parents felt it would go a long way to build bridges between the families if they were… encouraged to foster their relationship.”  
  
There was an extremely long silence.  
  
It dragged on.  
  
And on.  
  
…  
  
Finally, Shaak pinched the bridge of her nose with a very pained sigh.  
  
“So. To be crystal clear,” she said, “Your two families were intending to prostitute your children as bribes. And presumably the arrangement deteriorated, leading to our present situation.”  
  
“Yes, if you insist on describing it like that,” replied Tanis.  
  
Shaak put a hand to her chin, thinking. That unknown she had sensed was still perceivable. What was it? It was bugging her.  
  
“That doesn’t quite add up though – surely The Centis have more intelligence than to try this approach, so wh-”  
  
She froze.  
  
It hit her.  
  
Of course. Everything clicked into place.  
  
The window, The Centis, The Mothmas, their lack of surprise, the strange sense she felt. It all made sense.  
  
She deflated, resignedly. One thought bubbling to the surface.  
  
‘Why?’  
  
Why did it have to be that?  
  
Fe-Sun stiffened; she had also figured it out. She turned a pleading gaze on Shaak, as if that would somehow make it less true. It wouldn't.  
  
“There is one serious problem yet to be addressed,” said Shaak. Her voice was almost a ghost. Secretly praying she was wrong; even though she almost certainly wasn't.  
  
She slammed her hand against the grandfather clock and ripped the front off it with The Force.  
  
“The window was broken from the inside.”  
  
Inside the clock, bound and gagged, was an unconscious, pale, brunette teenager.  
  
Quiet.  
  
Deafening quiet permeated the room.  
  
“When I saw the window, I initially concluded an inside job,” Shaak eventually continued dejectedly. “But your account of matters combined with the presence I couldn’t quite pin down changed that. Your story only made sense if one of you was the insider. Fe-Sun is much more astute at locating things than me; she has quite a talent.”  
  
Shaak gave a long sigh. Another sigh for the pile of sighs today.  
  
“So when I remembered her being drawn to the grandfather clock, I realised what you had done. I very much doubt The Centis had anything to do with this beyond being your target. And the worst part is, had Shaptives been here, you likely would have deceived him – after all, he trusts you, Tanis. Take them away please.”  
  
And with Fe-Sun in tow, Shaak left. Admittedly, 'stormed out' would be a better descriptive.  
  
The lift-ride down was suffocating. Fe-Sun could _feel_ the despondence radiating off of Shaak. Her shoulders were slouched, her face drooping and she leant against the transparasteel wearily as the golden rays from outside bathed them in warmth.  
  
The silence persisted in the glare.  
  
Fe-Sun almost felt as if she were in a desert. For all the sun’s glow, everything seemed bleak.  
  
She didn't like this.  
  
And Shaak just looked…  
  
Tired.  
  
And the ride stretched on.  
  
And on.  
  
And on.  
  
The hum of life on the streets was a sweet mercy. The ‘water’ of life and sound ending the aridness of the clear box.  
  
Finally, when they neared the docks, Shaak spoke again.  
  
“This… was not a good day for me. It was not good day for me to investigate this. I’m sorry.”  
  
<Sorry?> replied Fe-Sun, <Don’t be sorry – I know what I want to be now!>  
  
“You do?” said Shaak, “What?”  
  
<I want to be a Sentinel. You’re right; I am good at finding things. I can track and I can hunt and I wasn’t too far behind you in figuring out whodunit!> she plastered a grin – that looked frankly bizarre on a Geonosian – onto her face. <So wallow in how bad things have been, if you want. But don’t you dare be sorry for today, Master.>  
  
In spite of herself, Shaak felt a small, catlike grin creep into existence.  
  
“What would I do without you, my young padawan?”  
  
<Fall into manic depression?> quipped Fe-Sun, <Now let’s get to Skako.>

 

* * *

  
**[Skako, The Skako system]**  
  
Shaak and Fe-Sun settled down in the oxygenated room as the airlock admitted Overseer Umbrag – He glided in and adjusted one of the dials on his pressure suit before taking in his visitors.  
  
“I thank you for taking the time to answer my call for Jedi assistance,” he said in a mechanised drawl, thanks to his suit. “Unfortunately, I regret to inform you that the matter has since been resolved. I am deeply sorry for any inconvenience.”  
  
<What?> replied Fe-Sun incredulously, staring at the Skakoan.  
  
Shaak sighed for what felt like the thousandth time that day. Were she alone, she may have taken to burying her face in her hands.  
  
<Do we even get to find out what we were called here for?> continued Fe-Sun, anger rising with each syllable.  
  
The Skakoan hesitated but eventually replied.  
  
“If you _must_ know… I believed a work colleague of mine had stolen one of my plans as her own. As it happens, this was simply a case of parallel thought – one in a million chance.”  
  
This was it?  
  
This was the reason they'd spent the past fourteen-odd hours running around the Galactic Core?  
  
“Excuse me?” said Shaak, drawing herself up to her full height. Maybe she was being overly callous. Frankly she had ceased caring. “Are you serious? You called a Jedi master out here over extremely minor intellectual theft? Let me make something crystal clear to you, Overseer Umbrag: Jedi are not to be called upon for such frivolous things. Please do not do this again.”  
  
She got up, followed by Fe-Sun, and departed.  
  
<I want to punch something,> growled Fe-Sun.  
  
“Anger leads t-“  
  
<Don’t even start with me. Can we just go home?>  
  
Shaak gave one final sigh. Or she hoped it would be final.  
  
"Yes, Fe-Sun. Yes we can."


	14. Glimpses

**[The passageways of The Ouran, space above Falleen, the Falleen system]**  
  
“So,” Shaak concluded her tale to a now more-than-slightly-embarrassed Master Corobb. “It’s fair to say it most certainly _did_ cause us a few problems. If you will excuse me, I have a certain council’s day to ruin.”  
  
She sourly marched off, Fe-Sun in tow.  
  
<Ahem,> Master Corobb sheepishly said to Stass. <We had best get moving…>  
  
Their journey resumed in silence – or almost silence. Master Corobb began to hum some sort of tune as they descended to the conference block.  
  
<So…> he tried to break the ice, <How are you feeling?>  
  
“Better.”  
  
He was probably expecting a longer response. Was she being rude?  
  
“Uh, sorry Master Corobb… it’s just I really wanted to talk to Ad- er, Master Gallia.”  
  
<Not to worry, Padawan Allie,> he warbled back, <I’m sure you will have another opportunity to do so.>  
  
They mercifully arrived at the appointed conference room and further conversation was thankfully unnecessary. Master Corobb bid his farewell and departed while Stass rapped her hand against the door.  
  
“Come in,” came the voice of Master Reivzx and Stass entered. Inside sat Agen, Coleman and Agen’s master, Norcuna, with Master Reivzx herself.  
  
Coleman gestured the seat next to him and Stass sat, folding her arms into her as all eyes fell to Master Reivzx.  
  
“I shall keep this brief, as I have to meet the Falleen delegation soon. The four of you are being dispatched to Teth. The Wild Space Alliance has specifically requested Jedi assistance in a potential espionage investigation. They think somebody might be trying to make off with a new armament they’re developing. They seem extremely concerned about security, so you’ll leave first thing tomorrow. The Analysis Bureau and The Strategic Information Service both made unsubtle requests that you acquire schematics for the arm – I shot them down though.” Her tone became firm at this point and she fixed a serious gaze on each of them in turn. “You are _not_ , under any circumstances, to do anything that will jeopardise relations between the Republic and The Wild Space Alliance. Am I made clear?”  
  
There was a collective nod in response.  
  
“Excellent,” she continued, “All relevant information is on this datapad.” She tapped a datapad that lay in the middle of the table. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have some roses to pick.”  
  
Smirking slightly, she rose to her feet and swept out the door.  
  
Norcuna swept up the datapad and turned to the others.  
  
“Alright,” he said, “how much do any of you know about The Wild Space Alliance?”  
  
“Formed approximately three thousand two hundred years ago,” rattled off Stass, “it is a confederation of four primary powers with a fifth ‘Foederati’ power. The four primary powers are Imperial Teth, The Rhen Var Nganism, The Daluuj Sultanate and Bothan Space. The ‘Foederati’ power is The Cophrigin Colonies, which is not a full member, but receives several benefits of membership – such as free trade and travel – in a special treaty. Bothan Space has dual membership with both The Alliance and The Republic, while the other powers remain outside Republic law. The collective territory of The Alliance forms roughly a crescent around Hutt Space on the far side of the Galactic centre and-”  
  
“ _Stass_ ,” interrupted Coleman, “That is quite enough, thank you.”  
  
Stass blushed somewhat and tapped her fingers, “Oh, um… sorry.”  
  
“Nothing to apologise for,” said Norcuna as he turned to the holopad. “Hmm. Yes, I see. Unauthorised transmissions. Possible data leaks. I have a couple of old contacts on Teth I could scrounge for information at the very least. Now, let’s take a look at this armament… a blast cannon. CR-1, it’s called. Being developed in partnership with Golan arms. What do you think, Coleman?”  
  
Coleman glanced down the datapad screen, one of his fingers tapping the table.  
  
“Hmm. I think we need to see the security up close before we can get a good idea for how to start.”  
  
“That’s what I was afraid of, unfortunately. Meeting adjourned, then. Padawans be ready in Hangar 4E at 7am. You both have medical appointments with Master Caudle this evening – he’s teaching now. Agen, if you’ll come with me and we shall resume our meditation.”

 

* * *

 

“So, Siri,” said Adi, as her patience finally ran out. “Are we going to get to Obi-Wan or are you going to continue evading the issue for the rest of today?”  
  
Siri froze mid-sentence. They were in Adi’s office, a modestly sized, modestly decorated room with little trimmings, save for a few holopics and a stand for Adi’s headdress. Siri snapped her jaw shut and sighed to herself before leaning back in the chair. She thought she’d been successfully bullshitting her way through the last half an hour. Apparently she wasn’t as good at that as she thought. Resigning herself, she nodded mutely.  
  
Adi regarded her pensively before speaking again.  
  
“You like Obi-Wan.”  
  
There was no denial.  
  
“You like him a lot and you don’t know how you feel about it,” Adi continued. “You know that, as a Jedi, you’re not supposed to have such relationships – but at the same time it sounds hollow and distant. You don’t know if you want him more than you want to be a Jedi.”  
  
Siri gawked at her.  
  
“How did you…?”  
  
Adi answered with a roll of the eyes, but eventually followed up with a succinct addendum.  
  
“You really think this is the first time this has happened?”  
  
“It’s common?” asked Siri, somewhat confused.  
  
“Of course it is,” came the kindly reply. “We’re all people here, after all. Most Jedi have to deal with this at some point or another – my advice is to talk to him about it-”  
  
“What?!” squeaked Siri, “I can’t tell him! Just… just... how would I?”  
  
To her surprise, Adi only raised an eyebrow and smirked.  
  
“What?” asked Siri.  
  
“You haven’t realised, have you?”  
  
“Realised what?”  
  
Adi seemed on the verge of sniggering. If Siri knew one thing, it was that her master _didn’t_ snigger.  
  
“Siri, are you being intentionally dense?”  
  
“Master, wh-”  
  
“He likes you as well,” Adi finally supplied.  
  
Siri blinked. If there was one thing she hadn’t expected, it was that. She really, really hadn’t expected that.  
  
“He does?”  
  
“Yes. And _most of us can see it_ ,” said Adi, humour fading and exasperation beginning to take hold.  
  
Siri narrowed her eyes slightly in suspicion.  
  
“Why are you so sure?” she asked.  
  
Adi rolled her eyes for a second time.  
  
“I pay a lot more attention than you do, it seems,” she muttered. Putting her hand under her chin, she thought a little, composing her next words. “Just, next time you’re talking to him, take note of how he speaks and acts. Look at his body language. In the meantime, think about this: In that test you just did with him, both of you were moving in synch.”  
  
Siri opened her mouth to speak, before realising she didn’t know what she was going to say and so it hung open like a fish. She closed it and tried again – still nothing. On the third attempt, she finally managed to force something out.  
  
“But… what does _that_ mean?”  
  
“It means that the two of you need to have a serious talk. But that isn’t the only thing bothering you, is it?”  
  
Siri blinked, confusedly.  
  
“What do you mean, master?”  
  
Adi chewed her lip before replying.  
  
“Have you spoken to Master Lev’Loa yet?”  
  
‘Ah.’ Siri thought. Her face gave Adi all the answer she could ever need, unfortunately.  
  
Adi pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation. Siri’s emotional density was really beginning to infuriate.  
  
“Right, right. I’m booking an appointment for you tomorrow with him. You _need_ to talk about what happened in those caves.”  
  
“But-”  
  
“No buts, Siri. This can destroy people if they don’t deal with it.”  
  
Siri crossed her arms moodily and sat back in her chair, sulking.  
  
“Fine. But don’t expect me to make it easy for him.”  
  
Adi’s communicator beeped, rather insistently, for that matter. Siri took the opportunity to close the conversation.  
  
“Are we done talking about this, Master?”  
  
“Yes,” said Adi, sagely. “But you are only just beginning talking about this to Master Lev’Loa. And Obi-Wan.”  
  
“I’ll be off then,” she said cheekily.  
  
“Sure,” muttered Adi, checking her communicator distractedly. “Go give someone else headaches for a change, why don’t you.”  
  
As Siri opened the door to leave, she came face to face with Stass. The two stared at each other, before Stass moved aside to let Siri pass. Stass watched her go, plodding pensively down the passage, lost in thought. When she turned back to Adi’s office, she saw Adi pulling on her cloak.  
  
“Oh. You’re… going somewhere,” said Stass, deflating. “I’ll come back another time-”  
  
“No need,” replied Adi, “walk with me?”  
  
Stass shut her mouth, swallowed, nodded and followed Adi from the office, in the direction of the central lifts. They were shortly accosted by R3-K9, Master Reivzx’s astromech droid, who beeped and booped incessantly at Adi, for some reason.  
  
“I get it, K9,” snapped Adi wearily, “Relax, I’m on my way _now_. Go pester Master Giiett; he’s in the Room Of A Thousand Fountains and you _know_ he’ll be late.”  
  
Apparently satisfied with his new task, the little irritation in silver, tore off down the passage at breakneck speed. Shaking her head, Adi resumed her journey with Stass in tow.  
  
“We’re having an emergency council session,” informed Adi, as they arrived at the lift entrances. One was already here and open. Stepping inside, Adi hit the button for the council chamber. “Master Ti just dropped some unpleasant news on us. But never mind that, what’s up?”  
  
Stass took deep breath and put together exactly what she wanted to say in her head. She probably should have done this already.  
  
“How do you do it?” she asked, gazing up at her elder cousin.  
  
“Do what?” said Adi, brow furrowing in confusion.  
  
“How do you keep such a level head? How do you put up with all the crap? How do you… keep control? I… I just… I don’t know if I can do it.”  
  
Adi’s face softened. A knowing smile formed.  
  
“It’s not _easy_ , believe me,” she began, “I don’t know if it’s something I can put into words very well… I take things one step at a time; one foot in front of the other. It’s something we all learn in time, don’t fret about it too much.”  
  
“But, some days it just feels like I have no idea what I’m doing,” replied Stass, in a rush. “And I never know if I’ll ever be good enough, or if you won’t come back one day, or-”  
  
She was interrupted by Adi’s hands on her shoulders, pulling her into a hug.  
  
“That’s perfectly normal,” Adi said into her ear, “you’re a bright young girl with a brighter future ahead of you. I have faith in you.”  
  
The lift halted, the doors opening. Adi released Stass and stepped out.  
  
“Have fun on Teth!” she called behind her as she entered the council room.  
  
Stass just stood there, in the lift, gazing at the closed chamber doors. She couldn’t stop grinning like a village idiot.

 

* * *

 

With a crackle, two lightsaber blades clashed. One green, one blue.  
  
“You’re distracted,” said K’Kruhk, the owner of the blue blade, gruffly. Bultar gritted her teeth as K’Kruhk followed up with two more heavy strikes. Backing away to give herself more room, she sidestepped his next strike and put her entire weight into the next swing, hoping to knock his weapon out of his hand. The clash was heavy, but not nearly heavy enough. K’Kruhk rolled his eyes and parried effortlessly, landing another hefty swing on her blade.  
  
“Really? Power swings? Against me? I’m disappointed.” He grinned and grabbed her arm, pushing away her lightsaber and holding his own near to her belly. “Aaaaand, you’re dead.”  
  
“Damn it!” Bultar cried in frustration.  
  
“Focus,” called Lilit Twoseas, K’Kruhk’s master, from the side. “You won’t beat him by brute force, Padawan Swan – he’s much bigger, heavier and stronger than you. _I_ could never beat him with sheer strength; fight more cleverly.”  
  
They were in the Room Of A Thousand Fountains – transplanted directly from the old temple to the Ouran. It was an impressive display of hydroponics – an indoor garden grotto, centred around a small waterfall with lush, well-kept foliage all around. Bultar, K’Kruhk and their masters were by the plunge pool. High above, others watched from bridges extending across the cavern. The room was situated at the very bottom of the Ouran, but the cavern’s height took it through several floors – hence the necessary bridges.  
  
Ordinarily, it was a place of quiet reflection and meditation. Today, it was being used to test the padawans’ ability to keep in a meditative state with The Force _and_ maintain a successful duel. Not a required skill, by any stretch of the imagination, but it was generally considered worth learning by most masters.  
  
Micah smiled fondly as Bultar and K’Kruhk assumed their opening stances for round two.  
  
“It is interesting how quickly they fall back to wild instincts when multitasking,” he whispered to Lilit, as their padawans clashed again. “K’Kruhk only won that because of his strength.”  
  
“I know,” said Lilit, “he’s abandoned all form – I’ll need to have a talk with him about that. All Bultar needs to do is keep it cool and she’ll trounce him.”  
  
“A pity, then, that she doesn’t seem able to meditate _and_ fight well, either.”  
  
Their quiet conversation was interrupted by frantic whistling. Looking round, the two saw K9 hare into view, barely stopping in front of them in time. It hurriedly jittered at Micah.  
  
“Council? Now?”  
  
His only response was a barrage of beeps and a slight nudge from the droid.  
  
“Alright, alright,” he said, annoyed. “I’ll stay for this last bout then. Lilit, can you take over on your own afterwards?”  
  
“Sure,” she replied, before both turned their attentions back on Bultar and K’Kruhk. K’Kruhk was fighting much more cleverly now, as was Bultar, but every time they tried detaching their minds, they just fell back onto brute strength. Usually, they were quite well-matched, but with the added distraction, K’Kruhk had the decisive upper hand.  
  
Behind them, A’Sharad and Xiaan were having a more balanced duel – mostly because they were both utterly failing to enter any kind of meditative state. J’Mikel surveyed them, worriedly.  
  
Xiaan’s yellow blade ground to a standstill, locked with A’Sharad’s red, her eyes fixed on the lenses of his mask – the red, impenetrable circles she had never seen behind. Staring each other down, each blade moved back and forth, neither gaining any kind of advantage. Suddenly, the standoff was broken by A’Sharad’s second lightsaber swinging round at her. She hopped back, breaking off, and nearly got under his guard. He fended her off, retaliating with a flurry of rapid strikes that glanced off Xiaan’s lightsaber – but one or two were a narrow thing.  
  
“Need I remind you of the object of this exercise?” put in J’Mikel as the pair separated and sized each other up some more. “Reach out with The Force. Let it guide you, relax from your surroundings – but do not lose track of them.”  
  
“Not for lack of trying,” growled Xiaan. She steadied herself and cleared her mind.  
  
‘Okay, relax,’ she thought to herself, ‘let The Force guide you. No distractions. No- ahfuck!’  
  
She was broken from her trance by A’Sharad lunging, caught off guard, she barely deflected and stumbled back. She pushed him away with The Force, buying herself a little time. A’Sharad’s scrawny build and two weapons gave Xiaan the strength advantage – she had more power on the swing with her two-handed grip. She just had to find an opening and she could take one of his weapons clean out of his hands.  
  
‘Focus. You can do thi-’  
  
“Stop focusing with your mind,” said J’Mikel, “Focus with _The Force_. It is your ally.”  
  
Shaking her head, Xiaan changed stance and tried once again to clear her mind. She set her eyes on A’Sharad’s lenses again, on the dark red shroud – behind which lay who knew what. Not for the first time, she found herself curious as to what his eyes were like. No. This was not the time for such thoughts. The two circled each other, still staring, weapons ready. Xiaan kept gazing into those sanguine pools; she was sure he was keeping eye contact behind them. She could sense it. Or… she thought she sensed it. Everything seemed to fall away. She felt detached. Like she was watching what was happening as opposed to being directly part of it. Fluidly, she made the first move. Her lightsaber flashing across to be intercepted by one of his. Then she counter-parried his riposte, deflecting one red sabre, then the other. Her own return strike caught him off guard and he barely caught it.  
  
J’Mikel’s eyes widened as he saw the duel unfold.  
  
“Lilit! Micah!” he called, “Look at this; they’re doing it!”  
  
The other two glanced over, caught by surprise. Bultar and K’Kruhk also looked, abandoning their duel. Xiaan and A’Sharad moved fluidly, in almost perfect unison, deflecting and redirecting the other’s blows. Their eyes remained fixed on each other as each slash and lunge fell.  
  
“Ah!”  
  
Xiaan had gone under A’Sharad’s guard and left a small graze on the inside of his elbow. His left-hand weapon fell to the grass with a thump and extinguished. The response was both immediate and shocking.  
  
With an inhuman growl, A’Sharad viciously lashed out with his remaining weapon, nearly disarming Xiaan. A change had come over him. Suddenly a storm of swift, violent blows rained down on Xiaan, accompanied by the guttural roars that Tuskens were known for. Taken aback, she barely parried each in turn, stumbling backwards. A’Sharad leapt at her, his hand closing around her neck, as they both fell to the ground. Xiaan gazed up, terrified, at the mask barely an inch from her face. She could feel the heat of his lightsaber somewhere near her throat.  
  
There was silence, save for the heavy breathing of both of them. Xiaan could feel her heart racing; she could also feel his pulse from the proximity – it was so _fast_. The masters all had their hands on their weapons, unwilling to come close, lest it endanger Xiaan further. She could almost make out some kind of glow behind those lenses, those ruby discs of his that hid so much.  
  
“A’Sharad?” Xiaan whispered in a small voice.  
  
The glow receded. A’Sharad seemed to come to himself; his hand slacked and fell from her neck. Shutting off his lightsaber, he continued to stare at her eyes. Well, Xiaan thought that’s what he was looking at.  
  
“Xiaan?” his voice sounded confused. Sitting up, he glanced down at his hands. His lightsaber hilt dropped from his right hand. “I… what… what did I do?”  
  
Over his shoulder, Xiaan saw the masters relaxing somewhat – J’Mikel breathing a sigh of relief. Xiaan waved them away, however, as they made to come closer. More people was not going to be helpful.  
  
“What… what happened?” A’Sharad continued. He sounded… scared, his head now tilted slightly further downward. Xiaan was confused at first, then realised he was looking at her neck.  
  
‘Must be a mark,’ she thought.  
  
What did she say? What should she say? A’Sharad’s hand reached out to touch the red bruise, fresh on her neck.  
  
“Did… did… did I do that?” His voice and breathing were both heavily shaking. Still lying back on the grass, staring up at his mask and wishing just for once she could see his face, Xiaan wrapped her hand around his and tugged it away from the bruise. His head was framed by the golden daylight, a simulation of the room. He may not have been able to show expressions through his wrappings; but his near-hyperventilation and the sheer distress in his voice convinced her. Whatever _that_ was that had just happened, it was not his fault.  
  
A’Sharad had, by now, gleaned the answer from Xiaan’s eyes. He slumped, looking around at the others, who were all staring at him in shock.  
  
“I-I’m sorry. I… I’m sorry.”  
  
Xiaan sat up, still holding his hand.  
  
“It’s alright,” she whispered.  
  
“No,” came his despondent reply, “It isn’t.”

 

* * *

 

In the one of Nigh Verity’s many leisure districts, two old friends – a Muun and a human – stepped up the steps into a glittering theatre. It was an opulent venue, to be sure. A place frequented by the wealthy and political elite.  
  
The Muun was a banker by trade; wealthy, straight-backed, and with a soft, kindly expression almost permanently present on his worn features. The human, one of the Naboo, had similarly aged features, but was not as old. Pale, wrinkled skin, greying brown hair and with blueish grey, watery eyes. A senator, he had travelled much of the galaxy in his time; in stark contrast to the Muun, who rarely made public appearances. They talked and smiled and waved as the occasional member of the elite recognised them. Proceeding into the grand building, the pair were greeted and shown to the Muun’s private box. The show was said to be glorious and indeed it was, one of the finest performances of modern opera imaginable. For the two, it was an evening of pleasant company, superb art, fine wine and a deserved respite from their stressful jobs. Tonight, they let themselves relax and be enthralled by the spectacle of art, forgetting their responsibilities, tribulations and agendas; for one night only. Work awaited them tomorrow, pressing business especially for the Muun. But that could wait, tonight they made merry. They talked of a great many things; financial endeavours, private agreements, personal irritations, the state of the galaxy, The Jedi, The Sith, The Republic and many other topics.  
  
All too soon, the wondrous final few notes came to a close. The two stayed some time afterwards, drinking further. There was no hurry. Eventually the Human was seen leaving, sleepily, by a number of staff, but the Muun remained. He drank and he drank, slowly falling into a slumber. His eyes were heavy, his form almost melting into his armchair. Finally, he let go and fell into a deep, long sleep.  
  
“At last,” said a quiet voice. A hand reached up and closed into a fist. It was the human.  
  
The neck of the Muun slowly constricted, tightening dangerously. He began to awake, dimly aware of the emergency, but was too far into his intoxicated stupor to muster any form of defence. He had no energy; his body was heavy, lumpen, a great weight. There was nothing he could do. And yet, strangely, he found he didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he felt pensive. Reflective, even. In his final moments, he found himself more serene and content than life had ever granted him.  
  
‘So _this_ is how it ends?’ He groggily thought to himself, “Ironic. The only one I couldn’t save: me.’  
  
The only thing that puzzled him was, why _now_?  
  
“A clandestine investigation has launched into Damask Holdings,” said the man, “They have found you. They may not know it yet, but the Jedi have unearthed you.”  
  
The Munn’s neck tightened further.  
  
“I have learned all I can from you. You are now a hindrance,” continued the man, “Dead weight. And a liability with your exposure. I have found an apprentice. _We_ shall continue where _you_ no longer can. I no longer need you.”  
  
The Muun was losing consciousness once more. He felt his impending end. For all his exertion on the matter of preserving life, he now found himself curious as to what death would be like.  
  
“Goodbye, Master.”  
  
And so it was, that thought fell from the Munn, his eyes closing almost peacefully.  
  
And the life of Darth Plagueis the Wise came to its end.


	15. Two Councils

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, I realised I'd completely forgotten to port from SV to both AO3 and FFN... so expect more chapters to be released very soon. Gonna stagger them so that there's less of a gap. Oops.

**[The High Council chamber, The Ouran, space above Falleen, the Falleen system]**

 

“The Council is now in session.”

 

Micah sat back in his seat as Mace continued. He’d had to run to the chamber after ensuring that A’Sharad and Xiaan were both fine. Well, maybe ‘fine’ wasn’t quite the right word, but not in imminent danger at any rate. In the centre of the chamber stood Shaak, waiting patiently to address the council.

 

“For those who don’t know,” began Mace, “Shaak uncovered a potential Sith infiltration of the Galactic Senate. One lead in particular she uncovered was of a connection to Damask Holdings, a senator and Darth Jadus himself. As you can all imagine, this is not a welcome prospect. _But_. It _is_ one that we have to face.”

 

The silence was long. When the sheer depth had sunk in, Depa Billaba spoke.

 

“Shaak, did your informant say anything of unusual note?”

 

“Not much. Apart from emphasising the word _Insidious_. He was not happy with being too specific, unfortunately.”

 

Glances were exchanged between the councillors. Glances with many unspoken conversations behind them. They all knew what this meant, the road that now lay before them – each had at least served all those years ago. Some memories refused to die.

 

Adi herself held a _very_ meaningful eye-contact with Saesee. Staring into each other’s eyes – into their souls… they both knew.

 

Whatever came, they could face it together. _Would_ face it together.

 

“Most… curious,” said Oppo Rancisis, stroking his beard. “Damask Holdings holds important sway in the Intergalactic Banking Clan. Prime target for economic warfare – we should speak with its CEO.”

 

“ _That_ ,” replied Adi, “Is going to be a problem. Hego Damask was found dead this morning.”

 

If the silence before had been extensive, it was nothing to the one that reigned now. It practically rang in the air, sound seeming so suppressed that one could be forgiven for expecting a pin-drop to be muffled by the sheer _weight_ of quiet.

 

At long last, it was broken by Micah.

 

“I don’t even need The Force to tell me _that_ is _not_ a coincidence. What do we know?” He leaned forward, gazing at Adi, a very focussed expression on his face. “Where? How? Who saw him last?”

 

“The Galaxies Opera House, cause of death still awaiting post mortem – we can have his body transferred to our staff if we can get us a warrant. Last person known to have contact with him was one Sheev Palpatine.” A minor snigger from Yarael Poof at the mention of ‘Sheev’, which Adi ignored. “incumbent Senator of Naboo. He was seen leaving the theatre last night – but well before the preliminary time of death. That said, I’ll be asking him a few questions.”

 

“Transferred, the body should be,” said Yoda slowly, thought present in his every movement. “Investigate it fully, our healers should. All in favour?”

 

There was a unanimous “Aye”.

 

“Right, while the medics are handling the corpse, I’ll do some sleuthing with the politicians – try to wring some information out of them-”

 

“If I may make a suggestion,” cut across Yarael, waiting for her incline of the head before continuing. “Might you also draw on any contacts of yours who can help you narrow down suspects? Take on their advice in the investigation?”

 

Pausing to think, placing a few fingers on her chin and tapping, Adi took a moment before deciding.

 

“… Yes. I can do that; I’ll do a little asking around.”

 

Saesee, quiet as he usually was, then spoke up.

 

“The pertinent question then becomes, who do we reach out to? Or rather, who do we trust? There cannot be room for doubt here – anyone we involve as a confidant in this matter _must_ be trusted.”

 

Adi nodded fervently.

 

“Caution you must use, Master Gallia,” advised Yoda, “Take great care in your choices. Time you should take in reaching your decisions. Consult the council at every step – inform us of every decision you make you must.”

 

“Perhaps our friend from Troiken?” said Plo, fingers interlaced. “Senator Valorum? He has become quite popular in the wake of the Stark affair – might he be helpful in identifying who has pull in the senate?”

 

Adi replied almost at once.

 

“No, not Finis. Too naïve, unfortunately. I’ll look into things. That aside, however, we’ll need someone to investigate the non-political side of things – someone who can assess, collate and analyse everything we find.”

 

“Any thoughts?” asked Micah.

 

“None myself – I’m not that familiar with the investigatory side of our order.”

 

“I do have someone in mind,” said Yarael, tapping his spindly fingers together, thoughtfully. “Master Solusar. He’s staying in the temple long-term anyway to refocus on his padawan and he’s certainly capable.”

 

“Will he be bringing the husband?” Eeth Koth put in dryly. There were more than a few sniggers.

 

“Jokes aside, I do not think it a good idea to involve Master Sifo-Dyas, close as he is to Ranik.” Despite his words, even Mace appeared to have an upturned corner of lip. “We do not need his style of investigation in this – he’d end up invalidating anything we dug up somehow with how often he candidly ignores authority. I do agree that Ranik himself would be well-suited, however.”

 

“Agree I do,” added Yaddle, “All in favour?”

 

A collective “Aye”.

 

* * *

 

**[Padawans quarters, The Ouran]**

 

Bultar shut the door behind her, lowering her voice as she began.

 

“Okay, what the fuck was _that_?!!”

 

A sigh from Xiaan. Well, this was a conversation she wasn’t going to enjoy.

 

“I… A’Sharad needs… special instruction. It’s why he has The Dark Woman for a master.”

 

Bultar’s jaw hung open at her words.

 

“ _Special instruction_?” She repeated back, a slightly alarmed look growing on her face. “What kind of- … is he… _dangerous_?”

 

Xiaan frowned, irritably.

 

“Of course he’s not fucking dangerous! Fuck’s sake Bultar, you’ve known him for years, haven’t you?”

 

Bultar shook herself slightly.

 

“Right. Yeah, sorry. Just… I’m worried, you understand that?”

 

“I _understand_ that it’s generally not a good idea to form rush opinions over things you _don’t really know that much about_.” The statement was _very_ pointed.

 

Bultar pursed her lips slightly.

 

“Alright; can you tell me about it then?”

 

Her reply was a _lot_ of lip chewing.

 

“If he hasn’t told you… I… do not have the right to. I’m sorry Bultar – just _please_ trust me on this. Trust A’Sharad on this. He’s alright; he’s our _friend_.”

 

Pinching the bridge of her nose a little, Bultar sighed. Here was hoping she wasn’t going to _seriously_ regret this.

 

“Okay. You’re right – I have known him for years… sorry.”

 

* * *

 

**[Healers deck, The Ouran]**

 

“Aaaand _you_ have a clean bill of physical health,” Caudle finished, stowing his implements. He held out his usual selection of lollipops for Stass to choose from. He seated himself while she sucked on a bright red one. “So,” he asked kindly, “how _have_ you been? Nightmares still?”

 

A mute nod.

 

“If need be, I _can_ get you something to help you sleep soundly.” His offer was given with a degree of warmth slightly above his usual levels.

 

Stass shook her head vigorously, the tendrils of her headdress flapping.

 

“N-no; it dulls my connection to The Force – I’m going to need that.”

 

“After you return from your mission, then?”

 

“Um… maybe. I’ll need to think about it.”

 

A nod of understanding.

 

“My door is always open – take your time.”

 

Rising to leave, Stass moved to the door, only for it to open before she reached it.

 

“What in the-?!!” Caudle exclaimed at the sight.

 

“I… is this a bad time?” Grunted the deathly white Bruck Chun.

 

“Not with _those wounds_ it isn’t!” yelped the Kubaz, “In! In! Sit down before you _fall_ down! Stass – sponge, warm water please!”

 

“On it!” Stass was at the refresher already, a basin filling.

 

Wasting absolutely no time, Caudle tugged Bruck over to his examination table, practically pushing the boy onto it. He was caked in blood smears, open wounds on his chest, leg and face. It stained his blue robes vividly and even by Echani metrics, he was pale.

 

“No, it’s not that bad, I can come back lat-”

 

“I strongly disagree! I’d sooner turn in my medical licence than let you leave my office without treatment! What in the galaxy happened?” Pulling on a set of clean gloves, he studied Bruck’s head injury.

 

“Sparring.”

 

“This is not a good time to lie to me, Bruck!”

 

“No, I _was_ sparring. With Oafy.”

 

“Oafy? Thank you, Stass.” Caudle wet the sponge and began frantically dabbing away blood from Bruck’s face. “Could you get another sponge and start on his chest please, Stass? We need to _see_ the extent of this!”

 

She nodded, fetching one quickly and peeling open the slash in his robes to start work.

 

“It’s what he calls Obi-Wan, I think,” She added to Caudle’s question.

 

“What? Padawan Kenobi did this to you?!! Why?!! HOW?!” He _had_ to keep him talking until he was certain Bruck was in no immediate danger. He also very much wanted to know what in the actual fuck had resulted in _this_.

 

“Got sick of him thinking he was all the shit – told him to prove it.”

 

“And _this_ was your chosen method?” Dab, dab, dab.

 

“Ah! Maybe a dumb idea, yeah. Heh, got him good, though.”

 

“ _What_.” Caudle stared at him, having now cleared most of the blood off his head – fortunately it didn’t look serious. A thin cut – Stass was reporting the same from his chest, although a bit deeper. Mostly pain and blood loss were the most serious problems.

 

“Only one of us was standing at the end.” Bruck grinned through his unblackened eye and bloody gums. “Out cold! I finally beat him!”

 

Caudle visibly paled.

 

“Stass! Finish sponging him, sterilise and then sow him up. Get him a basic blood boost too – I need to raise the alarm. Keep Bruck aware and talking – he may have lost a dangerous amount. Any questions?”

 

She shook her head.

 

“Got it – _thank you_! Bet you weren’t planning on getting some impromptu experience today!”

 

With that, he seized a portable medkit and disappeared in a flash, his voice echoing behind him as he headed in the direction of Master Che’s office.

 

“VOKARA! **VOK _AAARRRAAA!!!”_**

 

“What _were_ you thinking?” Stass asked as she kept up her cleaning. She didn’t sound nearly as alarmed as she probably should, instead she sounded almost curious.

 

“I… dunno to be hone- AHH!! Shit that stings!”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Deal with it. Maybe you shouldn’t go around getting into no-holds-barred mauls with your fellows.”

 

“He just… pisses me off. He thinks he can just run off to a war for a year and just come back and pick up where he left off… bastard.”

 

Stass was not one for getting involved in the personal situations of others – this wasn’t her place to comment. But. If she didn’t know better… he almost… sounded-

 

Master Che clattered in briskly, distracting her from her train of thought. The tall, business-like Twi’Lek wasted no time.

 

“How is he?”

 

“Doing okay – he’s lucid and not showing signs of that fading. I was about to sterilise and stitch.”

 

She nodded.

 

“Good, carry on – Master Caudle went to find Obi-Wan. I’ll find Master Solusar-”

 

“NO!” Bruck started. Master Che fixed her steely gaze on him. The boy nervously kept gaze. He stopped to hiss - Stass spraying biodisinfectant on him.

 

“No?”

 

“I… I’d rather he not find out, if you’d be so kind, Master. He… it wouldn’t go very well. I- I _know_ I shouldn’t have done this; I _know_ it was stupid and I’m sorry. I… I just… every time I fuck up… he… it…” He sighed. “Please don’t tell him.”

 

Master Che frowned sternly.

 

“I do not like the idea. But, if it means that much to you, very well. He will see your wounds sooner or later, however.”

 

Bruck grimaced as Stass began sowing him up.

 

“Y-yeah. I know. I’ll… I’ll make something up – just… just please give me some time, Master Che – and… could you… back me up if he asks?”

 

“… Very well.”

 

* * *

 

**[Padawans' quarters]**

 

The suitcase clicked shut.

 

“Packed, then?”

 

Bultar looked up – it was K’Kruhk.

 

“Yes; can’t wait to get off this spewbox.”

 

“Just as long as you’re not too keen to get away from me!” He laughed.

 

“Smell aside, nah! I don’t think I _could_ ever want to keep away from you,” she returned. Casting her gaze around the small room she had only briefly occupied, she honestly felt she wasn’t going to miss it. Pivoting to face her guest in the door, she offered a smile.

 

“Ready for your adventure?” His own grin was in full force.

 

“I’d say so, yes.”

 

“You’ll ace it! I know it. You coming down to dinner now, or are you gonna hang around letting your nerves control you?”

 

Her smile turned playful.

 

“Nerves? I’ve _no_ idea what you’re referring to…”

 

“Suuure you don’t.” That truly was a knowing, shiteating grin. He was even leaning on the door, the smug bastard.

 

“Come on, big guy. Food.” She very pointedly _didn’t_ answer the question. Moving past him, she led the way to the nearest kitchens.

 

“Don’t forget to call, we’ll get bored without you.”

 

“Somehow, I suspect you’ll all find wonderful ways to entertain yourselves – if all else fails, you’ll uncover a secret Sith plot to supplant the Republic and **_destroy teh Jedis!!!”_**

 

“Ha! We’ll have better odds of The Order finding the chosen one within the year!”

 

“Wow, there’s no need to be _that_ pessimistic,” she sniggered, mock elbowing him. “By the way, did you check out that show I recommended?”

 

“Oh yeah, I did actually.”

 

“What did you think?”

 

“Well, let’s see – two idiots so dense about their feelings they spend all the time arguing despite living in the same house and spending all their time together? One being an angry but kind-hearted redhead with the other being this submissive, withdrawn little guy? I absolutely loved it! Gonna watch _that_ to bits! Modern comedy at its finest!”

 

“I know! He’s so sweet but he can’t make a decision for shit! Wait till you get the reveal about Rey – it’ll blow your mind.”

 

“Yeah, Rey’s a bit of an odd one, actually – I can’t quite work out what her purpose is. Is she a romantic competitor or a false lead? I mean, I’m inclined to think there’s something else about her – she doesn’t seem _quite_ … I dunno.”

 

“Trust me – it’ll blow your mind. Don’t look it up, whatever you do. Heck, stay away from comedy discussion boards till you’ve finished it.”

 

“Noted; I’ll try.”

 

Bultar sniggered as she pushed open the kitchen door-

 

**_“SURPRISE!!”_ **

 

Her eyes widened as she took in the sight before her. Multi-coloured bunting and balloons festooned the room, confetti fluttering from some sort of dispensers on the ceiling. Overhead hung a banner with “Good Luck Bultar!” written on it. Standing before her was what appeared to be most of the padawans she was even vaguely familiar with – but a certain four were prominently at the front.

 

Stass and A’Sharad were slightly to the left, Stass having seemingly failed to notice she’d managed to get some glitter stuck on her cheek. Xiaan stood to the right, looking more than slightly pleased with their handiwork. Agen stood behind an impressive cake – doubtless of his creation - dark green with yellow icing as well as purple bits and pieces topping it off.

 

“You guys did _all this_?!”

 

“Yyyyep!” Chirruped Stass. “I rounded everyone up and organised them; A’Sharad did all the ceiling things, Xiaan was in charge of the other decorations and Agen, obviously, did the food!”

 

“And _I_ distracted you so you didn’t sense anything!” Chuckled K’Kruhk.

 

“Only now do I see your game!” Bultar replied, feigning betrayed hurt.

 

“Shamelessly guilty! Cake?”

 

She joined his mirth.

 

“You are incorrigible – what happened to you?” She pretended to think, tapping her chin with her finger. “Oh, right. _Me!_ ”

 

Chatter broke out, with the cake set aside for pudding, as Agen began serving his expertly-prepared main course to over thirty students.

 

* * *

 

**[Ziost, the Ziost system]**

 

Fingers closed tightly, crushing windpipe. Her victim lay broken and bloody under her. He was defenceless, helpless, against her. Her bronzed digits clenched harder, not letting up for even a second. Held beneath her like a ragdoll, her damaged plaything made only the slightest, most pitiful struggles. She could see the dilation of his eyes, the life ever so slowly draining away. He choked and writhed, spluttered and stuttered. Her own wild, intense orbs drank it all in; anguish, terror, pain, desperation. Finally, he was at the edge of abyss.

 

Then she relented, releasing her toy and standing. With an air of supremacy, she watched her toy panting on the floor for a little while, before viciously kicking into his gut. Then she drew her foot back and jabbed it in again, harder. She repeated a few more times before starting on his head. It was something of a mercy when her foot finally swept the gasping form aside, out of her way. Satisfied, she swaggered over to her throne, ascending the steps to retake her seat. It was one throne of fifteen – all now occupied, bar one – arrayed in a U-shape in the cavernous room. Light poured in from the crystalline skylight above, dropping a spotlight into the centre of the room where the still-stirring victim lay.

 

The Trust Of Ziost was in session.

 

Seating herself lazily, the beautiful girl appeared quite young, most likely in her early twenties at the very most. In reality, she was far, far older. She slid her raven, silken locks back, leaning on one arm and sliding her legs over the opposite arm rest.

 

Casting her content gaze at her fellow trustees, Lord Githany addressed them.

 

“Now, he hasn’t said it, but I’m _fairly_ certain he’s relinquishing his challenge to my seat.”

 

“Agreed,” added the hulking, towering form of Darth Malak in the throne to her right.

 

“Let us move on to further business,” said Darth Bane, from Githany’s left, higher than the others, at the head to the formation. A shining glow from an inlet behind him made it difficult to look at him, to make out features under the glare. “Has Phobos landed yet?”

 

Almost as if on cue, the great monolithic doors at the far end of the chamber flew open. The tall, pale green Theelin strode in, carrying something in one hand.

 

“Excellent timing. What did Stark make of the message?” Bane called down at her.

 

“He seemed to find it insightful,” Phobos replied wryly, “I also took the liberty of acquiring _these_ from Troiken.” She hefted the item in her hand, a sealed tank, filled with glittering Challat Eaters. “I’m sure you,” she addressed Darth Occulus now, “and Mutanous will have some fun with these little horrors.” She tossed the container at the Togruta, him summoning it to his gauntleted hand to inspect. His features obscured by his helmet, he glanced sideways at the hooded, equally unrecognisable form of Darth Mutanous, clad in all dark green.

 

“Fa~ascinating,” came Occlus’s jovial, reverberating response. “Yes, I think we’ll have **lo~ots of _fu~uun_** with these cuties.”

 

Phobos strode up to take her own seat on Malak’s other side, sitting smugly cross-legged and turning her attention back to Bane.  
“All in all, I think we can consider the matter closed.”

 

“Excellent. Next on the agenda, then: the matter of Darth Plagueis.” Bane glanced down to the bloodied mess on the floor. “The Trust’s proceedings are confidential from this point onwards.”

 

The mess stirred.

 

“Meaning get out,” added Githany, “Unless you don’t care to live.”

 

Gasping as he rolled over, he made pained grasping at the floor, beginning to pull himself along, towards the door.

 

“We are awaiting holographic report. You have until communication is achieved.”

 

Crying out raggedly, the beaten man dragged himself marginally faster, haste setting in. He was halfway to the door. All eyes watched him. Crawl, grunt, pull, gasp. Once or twice he let out a moan of pain – his limbs were far from medically safe to really use, but he did anyway. He _had_ to.

 

Nearly to the open doors, now, a trail of blood smeared across the floor behind him. There was a beeping sound; the holoprojector firing up.

 

With a cry of anguish, the man, desperate and relentless, managed to stagger up, diving forwards. He was so close now.

 

A tell-tale hum sounded behind him. Darth Zannah’s double blade had ignited. The short, tanned, blonde girl stood atop her throne’s steps, on the end, opposite Mutanous. She was poised to leap out at any moment; to dive down and end him.

 

 _Somehow_ , the man made it, staggering past the double doors seconds before they closed and locked. A hologram of a tall, hooded figure burst to life as Zannah stowed her weapon and seated herself again.

 

“Darth Sidious,” announced Bane, “How did your master die? We all sensed his passing last night, but we have little context.”

 

“ _I_ ended his life,” the hologram replied, curtly. “The Jedi order uncovered a lead on Damask Holdings. He was exposed – it was a simple matter of time before the Jedi or he, himself, knew it. I saw the danger he was in and the weakness of him – he had become a liability. To preserve the operation, I removed him. Metaphorically, I cut loose the ballast to remain afloat.”

 

“Are you compromised?” the hooded, blue-skinned Darth Ruin asked immediately.

 

“No; the Jedi know that my civilian identity was close to him, but not how close. I will undoubtedly be questioned, but they have no reason to connect me to Damask Holdings over any number of others. They are, however, undoubtedly wary and suspicious.”

 

“Then we must move to scuttle all connections to Damask Holdings.” It was the helmeted, imposingly tall Darth Jadus speaking now. He sat on Ruin’s left, observing his holographic subordinate. “Salvage what can be salvaged – everything else is to be scrubbed of anything useful. This cannot be traced back to us. At all. We are not yet ready to reignite the war.”

 

“I concur,” said Malak, “are we all agreed?”

 

“Aye.”

 

Bane now addressed Sidious’s hologram.

 

“So it shall be. You are to do as Jadus has outlined. If you are successful in evading discovery, you will take full control over your Master’s directorate. If you are found; you are on your own, if we do not decide to have you removed. Do you understand?”

 

Sidious bowed.

 

“Assuredly clear. I have already taken the liberty of enacting countermeasures to distract the Jedi, but they will take a short amount of time to come to fruition. My next report _will_ come once I have ensured I am completely in the clear. And no sooner.”

 

“Splendid, you are dismissed.”

 

As the hologram flickered and died, Bane stroked his chin thoughtfully.

 

“Excellent initiative, that one,” commented Ruin, “He will go far, I think. If he survives the mission.”

 

“Of course he will go far,” responded Bane, “that is why I do not trust him. Next item. Darth Tempest; your report on the Antilles Stratagem.”

 

He addressed the only holographic trustee. Darth Tempest sat on Occlus’s left; tall and imposing, clad in heavy, dark armour with a silver-visored helmet that would have reflected the whole room had the hologram been capable.

 

“Proceeding as designed. Not a great deal to report really, as usual.”

 

“Things may well become more interesting for you, as it happens,” spoke up Belia Darzu from between Tempest and Phobos. She was imposing, muscled, but slender and tanned. She dressed oddly, even for a Sith; a sleeveless indigo bodysuit, sandy gloves and a waistcoat. She also wore a brown open helmet and a back… harness for want of a better word, from which hung what was usually referred to as an _excess_ of weapons. Lightsaber hilts, daggers, blasters, even a few outright swords and axes. There were more on her belt. Unsurprisingly, she chose to lean forward in her throne.

 

“Why would that be?”

 

“My little helper has told me that a padawan is being sent undercover on the estate to investigate some transmissions they intercepted. They weren’t able to decrypt anything, but they know something’s up. They’ve no idea exactly _what_ is up, though.”

 

“Well, that can be dealt with easily,” said Githany. “Identify them, kill them and dump ‘em in the river while making it look like a freak accident.” She glanced at Darzu. “Can your informant get rid of everything they intercepted?”

 

“Not without exposing themself.”

 

“Pity,” Githany muttered, “Wish you wouldn’t insist on concealing who it is to us – that’s a resource we could _all_ benefit from.”

 

“Deal with it,” Darzu replied brusquely. “It’s _my_ trump card. I’ll hand it over when you bare yours.”

 

“I see,” said Tempest, “I’ll be keeping a look out for this interloper, whoever they are. Once they set foot on this estate; they’ll be as good as dead with The Order none the wiser.”


	16. Wild Heart: Into The Unknown

**[Hangar A4, The Ouran, space above Falleen, the Falleen system]**

 

It was a relatively straightforward affair – the six approached Zourvux, Micah, Norcuna and Coleman Kcaj. Bultar turned to her friends before they reached the adults.

 

“Well, guess this is goodbye for a while…”

 

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” came A’Sharad’s drought of a response. He folded his arms, looking between the three. “You’ll nail it; all three of you.”

 

“Here’s hoping,” she replied, “Are… you gonna be okay?”

 

“Yeah – I got Xiaan and K’Kruhk here after all. Plus, Stass and Agen won’t be gone for long – and my master finally feels things are settled enough to come aboard, so she’s on her way. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine!”

 

“Ready to get going?” asked Zourvux, as the six arrived. She appeared to be cradling a bunch of pretty, delicate red flowers, of all things.

 

“Yes, Master Reivzx, but… may I ask what the flowers are for?” Stass said, curiously.

 

“The Falleen delegation; never underestimate how far pleasant gestures and first impressions can get you. Now, Bultar, Micah, you’re with me in the left shuttle. Stass, Agen, you’re with your masters in the right one. If you’d be so kind?” She turned and marched up the ramp to her shuttle; red cloak swishing after her. Bultar tore her eyes away from the spider image on the back of it to bid her last farewell. For a while, at least.

 

“Well, goodbye, I guess.”

 

“Goodbye,” said K’Kruhk. Without waiting on ceremony, he clamped her tightly into one of his signature wampa hugs. “See you! And have fun!”

 

In spite of herself, she sniggered.

 

“Aaaaand now I reek as bad as you. _Joy_.” She nonetheless returned the embrace, before he set her down. Stass was next.

 

“Well, I’m not hugging you now that you smell like Whiphid,” came her smirking farewell. She settled on a simple bro-fist. “See you in however long it takes!”

 

Then came A’Sharad.

 

“Don’t worry about me; I’ve got enough people on that already. Keep your head straight and your thoughts clear and I’ll be sure to see you soon!”

 

“I’ll have to hold you to that,” Bultar said, a small smile playing at her lips as they hugged. Releasing him, she turned to Xiaan.

 

“Take care,” said the Twi’Lek, grinning earnestly. “Don’t forget to keep us posted on what life’s like on-planet.”

 

“I will; should be… interesting.” Bultar too smiled before facing Agen. 

 

He was as blunt as always. A single incline of the head, accompanied by a curt, “See you.” Nodding in return, she about-faced, to the boarding ramp. She shot a last glance back again.

 

“Well, Bultar… here you go…” It was Micah, waiting at the top of the ramp.

 

“Yep… into the unknown, Master.”

 

And just like that, she was gone. The gangplank sealing behind her as the craft lifted off gracefully and glided from the hangar. Spirited away.

 

* * *

 

His chest rose and fell evenly. Master Che had given him a thorough examination and declared that he would be fine provided he didn’t exert himself much any time soon. His cuts had been cleaned and bandaged; he lay there asleep for now, waiting the only real option.

 

Salmony, webbed fingers enclosed his, gently massaging the hand. Bulbous, shining eyes watched his sleeping form, monitoring for a change in state. Occasionally, the orbs glanced up to the next bed over to assess the snowy-haired occupant; Bruck was awake, reading and determinedly _not_ looking over towards his neighbour. The large eyes had caught a few stolen glances, nonetheless. A more thorough diagnosis from Caudle had revealed the boy to have extensive bruising through his legs – seemingly the result of a Force-powered slam into the wall. Consequently, he was not to walk for the rest of the day to make sure Caudle’s healing wouldn’t be ruined.

 

Turning her attention back to the sleeper, Bant Eerin readjusted her friend’s covers a little. Obi-Wan’s hair was splayed messily over his pillow, his expression twitching as he slept. He’d been fortunate in that Caudle’s search hadn’t lasted long. Obi-Wan had been discovered unconscious in one of the training rooms, passed out and a bit of a mess. Like Bruck, most of it had been superficial. That still didn’t really help Bant wincing every time she looked at him.

 

Bant looked up at a clattering – it was Siri, bursting in. She panted heavily, taking in the contents of the room. Bruck’s eyes flicked to briefly look at Siri’s sudden entry. The blonde took in the immediate sight of Bruck, heavily patched up, then the sleeping Obi-Wan who looked worse. She blanched.

 

“What the kriff happened? Everyone’s talking about some sort of accident!”

 

“They… had a fight,” Bant quietly replied, “The ‘accident’ story’s so Master Solusar doesn’t find out; you _know_ how he gets…”

 

Eyes widening further, Siri rounded on Bruck.

 

“What did you _do to him_?!”

 

“Hey, he _chose_ to get into it!” he snapped back, “Relax, the docs say he’ll be fine.”

 

Letting out a breath, Siri sat between the beds, testily. She gently took Obi-Wan’s spare hand, holding it between her own pair.

 

“What happened, then?”

 

“Got sick of him acting like nothing ever happened. Like he didn’t just fuck off for a year. Told him to prove he was as good as he’s s’posed to be.”

 

Siri just scowled. Gently, she ran a hand across Obi-Wan’s forehead, brushing his hair back from his face. His face settled somewhat as she did so. Satisfied, for now, she leant back in the chair and waited. In the back of her mind, she was more than a little acutely aware that she _was_ supposed to be at the appointment Adi had arranged…

 

Thought slowly drifted back to Obi-Wan. He could feel a warm… pasty sensation in one hand… and a warm, softness in the other. He also felt like a mess. Slightly better than when he’d come to in Caudle’s office last night, then. Still, the feelings in each hand were nice. His eyes drifted open. Before him, the view of Siri Tachi swam into focus. There were certainly worse sights to wake up to- shut up, brain. He then connected the soft warmth in his left hand to the sight of her; she was holding it. That was… nice. Yes, he’d go with ‘nice’; ‘nice’ was safe. Eyes panning right, he saw Bant – the source of the rubbery warmth.

 

“Obi?” It was Siri speaking. “How d’you feel?” Her visage was awash with a fairly confused mix of concern, relief and irritation.

 

“Bit better… still hurt a lot, though.”

 

“That’s good to hear,” chipped in Bant, “Masters Jinn, Che and Caudle know what happened, but otherwise, it’s being put round as an accident.”

 

“… I’m… sorry.”

 

“Just… please don’t worry us like this again – you gave us more than our fair share not so long ago.”

 

They were interrupted by a hefty clunk.

 

It was a footfall. A heavy footfall. Looking up, Obi-Wan saw the broad, imposing mass that was Jedi Master Ranik Solusar. He did not look happy – but then he rarely did. He stood framed in the doorway – a short but muscled Rattataki with heavyset facial features, a permanently fierce expression, a reek-style nose ring and flowing, thick, lined tattoos on his face and cranium. He cast a terse, almost judgemental look over the group; his dark eyes finding one of them in particular.

 

Bruck paled, a remarkable feat after how white he already was.

 

“An accident.” His tone left no doubt whatsoever that he didn’t believe it in the slightest. “I am disappointed.”

 

“Uh!” Bruck started, “It’s not wh-”

 

“I have no desire to hear it. Masters Caudle and Che have advised you are to remain at rest to recover. When you are well, come to my quarters so we can discuss things further.”

 

“Bu-”

 

**“Bruck.”** Master Solusar’s firm but vicious gaze was backed up his harsh bark. Bruck hung his head, resignedly. He knew better than to object further.

 

“Yes, Master.”

 

Without another word, Master Solusar swept out.

 

Trying – and failing – to hide his taught, almost trembling face behind his datapad, Bruck’s pupils kept firmly locked on his reading material. Siri shot him a furtive look.

 

“You wanna talk about it?”

 

His reply was a throaty grunt. It was just about recognisable as a ‘no’. Still he didn’t look at them. It could have been a trick of the light, but Bant could have sworn there was almost a sheen to his eyes… 

 

But surely not…

 

* * *

 

**[Falleen Throne, Falleen]**

 

Light breached Bultar’s vision as the ramp descended.

 

“Alright, my stop,” Zourvux merrily called as she began plodding down, arms still cradling the bouquet. “Good luck, Bultar – try not to cause an international incident. Time for me to schmooze some Falleen!”

 

Awkwardly, Bultar waved after the Jedi Master and incumbent Keeper Of First Knowledge. She caught a brief view of Zourvux beginning to hand out a flower each to the opulent figures awaiting her.

 

“Good morning! Lovely to make your acquaintance! And one for you too! Such a delight to be greeted by you! This one would look absolutely splendid behind your right ear, if I may suggest? Charmed, char-”

 

The Mirialan’s chatter was cut off as the ramp resealed, the shuttle preparing to lift off again.

 

“She’s always had a way with people,” Micah commented. The two of them now alone in the passenger bay, he turned to Bultar, laying a hand on each shoulder. “How are you feeling?” As he spoke, there was a hiss and a dull clank of the ship lifting off again.

 

“I’ll be better once I’ve landed again, I’m sure. So what’s this watchman I’m meeting like?”

 

“I’ve only met him once; seemed a nice enough fellow. New, only been a knight for a year or two and Fwacide’s Watchman about as long. Kienyr Lethian seemed capable enough when we met. Odd. Amicable, but odd. You’ll get along fine. Though if all goes well, you’ll hardly ever need to contact him once you’re in.”

 

“If you say so.” Bultar grimaced, a little distracted by the slight nausea returning from their rapidly climbing altitude. Fuck space travel. It could go die in a hole. And a fire.

 

* * *

 

**[The Teth system, The Wild Space Alliance]**

 

“Coming up on Teth, we’ll be down shortly,” announced their pilot. Coleman nodded and left the cockpit to tell the others. Predictably, Agen was meditating. Master Norcuna and Stass were reading over case details on their datapads, an analytical furrow on Norcuna’s worn, cyan face slowly deepening as he familiarised himself with the security setup.

 

“We’re coming in now, better get ready to move.”

 

The T-6 sunk into the swirled sky of the pretty world. It had long been said that Teth was a natural painting. From orbit, this was plain to see and hard to doubt, with its gorgeous, marbled pinks, whites, greens and beiges. They broke past the cloud cover, revealing a thick, dark jungle beneath. Teth’s famous mesas – more of rock pillars than anything else – poked up above the canopy, reaching high and towering into the sky. Some even reached kilometres. A mild, early morning mist hung over the whole sight, catching the sleepy sunlight and casting a rainbow haze.

 

The capital city was easily the most distinguishing feature, clear to see as the ship swept in. Tethese stood proudly high above the thick foliage. It was quite a sight, a series of tall, stone block urbanisations atop the mesas, but also running deep into them – lights glittering out from the cylindrical rock face. The sprawling array was connected via multitudes of light-bridges. They webbed between the stacks, their light peeking out a soft turquoise.

 

Drifting down to a hewn hangar in one of the taller columns, the shuttle swung its dorsal horizontal and set down. Waiting for them was a small party of soldiers dressed in khaki uniforms with green breastplates, backpacks, leather boots, matching gloves and short-visored hats. All neatly tucked and display ready. They were led by a short but stern-looking man in a beret. He had a rather pulled, taught face with beady little eyes watching them disembark and approach. He was also uniformed, albeit in an all-fawn version with three silver slightly curved dagger silhouettes emblazoned over the left pectoral.

 

“Master Jedi. Padawans,” he began, no sooner than they had arrived. “Primary Colonel Lio Doćo, House Shaza. I would welcome you to the Sovereign Realm Of Imperial Teth.” He rigidly clamped his left fist to the opposite shoulder, prompting his men to just as rigidly step into a single line and salute, some kind of carbine rested in the crook of their at-rest arms.

 

“Bet this guy gets catharsis out of keeping his datapads arranged straight,” Stass muttered to Agen. She got no response, nor had she expected to – Agen was in work mode.

 

“A pleasure to be received by you,” replied Norcuna, with all the enthusiasm of a desiccated rodent carcass. Even Agen raised an eyebrow at that. “What is the current situation?”

 

“Five standard days ago, suspicious data transmissions were detected broadcast from within secure weapons testing facility nine,” Doćo began, “After brief investigation, I elected to request Jedi assistance, in the absence of headway and given the urgent and sensitive nature of the situation. _These._ ” The soldiers behind him did an odd thing, a sort of snap, with their legs and dropped their salutes, stepping forward as one. “Are my finest special operations commandos. My ‘elites’ if you like. I have personally screened and vetted these six myself. They are above suspicion and will remain at your absolute disposal, along with myself, for the duration of the investigation. Expert combatants and slicers alike. We are the pinnacle of what House Shaza has to offer. All other known information has been provided to you already. If you wish, we can show you the compromised facility first-hand.”

 

“Ah, yes, we were hoping for such a look,” Coleman jovially put in, “would you be so kind?”

 

“Certainly, sir. If you will follow? It is not far, but it is on lockdown, so there will be searches and checks performed.”

 

“Of course.”

 

* * *

 

“And here it is. The experimental Golan Arms CR-1 Blast Cannon.” Doćo concluded. The security had been no joke. Three checkpoints of full body scans and extensive documentation checks, ensuring they indeed were who they said they were and weren’t packing any infiltration tools. And that was on top of about a dozen code and pass-card secured blast doors. The Jedi had been required to surrender their lightsabers into secure storage – though Doćo had assured them that this would only be the case for the first visit. Stass’s garrotte wire had also been confiscated.

 

All this for what seemed to be just another shotgun. What, did it come with its own AI or something?

 

It seemed unassuming enough, a drum fed contraption with a stock. The thing was shortish and with a stubby bullet-shaped nose inset with four barrels, a scope of some sort and more than a few side vents. It certainly looked like a prototype though – wired could be seen peeking out of openings and it had a fairly skeletal appearance at present.

 

“So, may I ask what is so special about this prototype that requires such security?” Norcuna asked curiously.

 

“I am afraid you are not cleared to be granted a detailed description,” Doćo said, stiffly. “I can, however, tell you that the blast spread can punch right through up to an inch of plasarmour at the maximum effective range.”

 

Stass’s eyebrows raised at that, as did Norcuna’s brow.

 

“A handheld blaster cannon? I see. That would explain all this. Very well, let us turn to the information at hand.” Folding his hands together, thinking. “This operation is extremely tight-knit, so a spy or turncoat is the most likely place to start. Either way, if they want to get anything off world, they will need to go through the local criminal underworld. I believe Black Sun is the foremost power on Teth, correct?”

 

Doćo nodded.

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Well then, I think it time I dusted off an old informant or two I have in the area. It’ll take time to contact them, however. So for today, I think a read over of the known information would be good.”

 

* * *

 

“Right, time for grub!”

 

It was early evening now and Stass was hungry. She and Agen had gone out to a local commercial district, looking for a small sort of eatery. It hadn’t taken long to find a quiet, small place and now they sat with two boxes of local food. And what appeared to be a pair of sticks each.

 

“Ah.” It now occurred to Stass that she’d never used chopsticks before. “Well, I’m sure they’ll be fine to use.”

 

She took them up in her hand, awkwardly clasping a morsel in them. She lifted it up… at which point it flopped out from between the sticks and back into the box. Frowning she tried again, pinching another piece and lifting… only for it to drop again. Now slightly irritated, her third attempt went about as well. Fuming, she growled. Several more tries later and she was at her wit’s end.

 

“Chopsticks are evil.”

 

“They’re not so bad,” responded Agen, who was having no trouble at all, eating away in a perfectly dignified manner.

 

“They are a sin against humanity!”

 

His only further reply was to tap one of his decidedly non-human horns with the top of one of the sticks, before continuing to feed. A minor upturn of the lips might just have been visible on him. After about another minute of Stass getting more and more exasperated, he finally took pity on her.

 

“Here.”

 

He held out a fork to her in his unoccupied hand.

 

“YOU HAD THAT THE WHOLE TIME?!”

 

“Did you see me get up?”

 

“I hate you.” She added a pout for good measure.

 

“Well if you don’t want it-”

 

She snatched it before he could even finish.

 

“Thanks,” she grumbled out before finally tucking in.

 

* * *

 

**[Training decks, The Ouran]**

 

“Flimsy grip on your blade.”

 

The clash of blades. Red on purple. Sparks danced as they broke apart. In but a moment, they connected again. Bruck held the red, Master Solusar the violet. Master Solusar was winning, as usual. Or to be more exact, he was positively demolishing Bruck. Swing after powerful swing fell, pushing Bruck back as he fought to avoid stumbling and keep up. Master Solusar kept up a running commentary all through the duel. 

 

“Guard! Keep it _up!”_

 

“Focus! Are you a duelist or a bystander?!”

 

“I am not impressed.”

 

“You are supposed to be fighting to win.”

 

“That was _pathetic!”_

 

In very short order, Bruck was right at the edge of the mat.

 

“Careless, inelegant, sloppy!” With an almost-roar, the next crushing blow _ripped_ Bruck’s weapon from his grip, crashing it hard into the soft training surface. Caught off balance, Bruck staggered back, tumbling off onto the hard floor. “At this rate, you will _never_ amount to anything, much less become a Jedi.”

 

Discharging his weapon, Master Solusar summoned his traditional outer skirting, donning it with a flurry of swishing cloth. Without so much as a backwards glance, he strode straight out of the small sparring room.

 

Panting hard, Bruck lay there for a moment, before his stamina recovered. Heaving, he rolled over onto all fours, alabaster hair plastered to his dripping sweaty face. There was now more colour to his skin than anyone had ever seen, crimson with exertion and humiliation. Hacking up a strained, spluttering choke, he slammed a fist down into the mat.

 

A tear fell. It gave a miniscule thud as it hit the soft mat. Then another. And another. A dam burst.

 

Choking sobs racked out from Bruck, wet tears dropping. He keeled over, curling up in a heap, shaking and crying.

 

* * *

 

“Aeris? What the- STOP!” Suddenly, the woman paused mid-throttle. Turning her head, she saw, at the end of the hall, the father. And he was frozen in a mixture of shock and betrayal. Her face quickly broke into a hasty and patchy smile – an attempt at warmth.

 

“Ah. Nothing you need to concern yourself with, Uehara, dear. I was just-”

 

“DON’T! GET AWAY FROM STASS!”

 

In a blur of motion, he closed the distance and Aeris was shunted unceremoniously off of her daughter.

 

“Rika! Get Stass out of here!” Uehara yelled, putting himself between Aeris and Stass in the same motion.

 

“NO!” Aeris lashed out, catching him in the face and almost diving over him. Almost. One of his strong arms locked around hers and she tumbled into a heap with him.

 

A second later, the girl felt herself pulled away from the parental melee, suddenly in the arms of a short, masked woman in grey. Vainly, Aeris could only call out after her as Rika ran at full pelt, carrying Stass away.

 

“NO! STOP! RIKA! GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW! THAT’S-” she was silenced by Uehara’s full weight crushing her into the floor.  
As Rika rounded the corner and ducked into a servant’s passage, Aeris’s screeching voice started to dwindle from earshot. As she ran, Rika spoke clearly into her throat comlink.

 

“Code Delta! Package Indigo secure and in custody – Principal under threat in sector three. Prepare the holdout. Aggressor is subject Sapphire.”

 

Almost at once, alarms sounded across the building. Running footsteps and squawks of reports erupted over the comms.

 

Rika carried the child further and further, away from the wailing. Stass shook in the retainer’s arms with each successive call from her mother. Rika did not let up for a moment however, darting and weaving through the back passages and finally emerging back into an actual guest area – but on the other side of the estate. Crossing to a door bearing the Yellow on black clan symbol of Clan Angra – a permitted false front set up by the friendly clan, she nodded to the two guards and entered. It was a small room, with no windows and a small amount of cushy furniture.

 

Rika set her young charge down on a settee and peered into her eyes closely.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

A noncommittal nod, the young Stass was still shaking.

 

Rika took a deep breath and sighed, trying to process everything.

 

“Okay. I need to give you a quick inspection, just to make sure you didn’t get hurt without realising, okay?”

 

A start. A frantic headshake.

 

“… Why not?”

 

No reply.

 

“… Stass, please. I need to check you!”

 

An even more fervent shake of the head.

 

Grimacing, Rika let loose a groan. She wasn’t going to enjoy this.

 

“Please don’t make this difficult!” She reached a hand out to the hem of the child’s dress.

 

Stass did not take it well, trying in vain to hold off the grown woman – completely uselessly. With delicate care to not harm her, Rika slowly pressed on, overpowering the silent girl and cautiously pulling open the top of the dress.

 

It finally came fully open.

 

Rika went chalk white.

 

* * *

 

**[Tethese]**

 

Agen’s eyes flew open at the scream. In both of their rooms, Coleman and Norcuna’s eyes did much the same.

 

Without wasting a moment, they all were up and tearing out of their respective rooms, converging on the source. Agen almost flew into Stass’s room, scooping up the rigid girl. She was locked in sleep, crying out and stiff as a board, every muscle clenched. He hurriedly shook her, but she didn’t wake. Not good.

 

He rocked her gently, hoping for something, anything. But nothing.

 

“Stass? _STASS?”_

 

A bony hand rested on her forehead – Coleman. His wide eyes even more so than usual, practically bugging out of his head in alarm. Closing his eyes, he reached out, trying to soothe through their connection.

 

After a few, tense seconds, she began to stir – her cries diminishing to a dull moan. Finally, she let out a dull mumble.

 

“Wh- w’ppn’d?”

 

Her indigo eyes flickered open, gazing up blearily at Agen and Coleman.

 

A collective breath let loose.

 

* * *

 

“Ranik.”

 

Master Solusar looked up from the paperwork he had been filling out on his datapad. It was Sifo-Dyas. The wiry, brown-haired, charismatic man and lifelong friend was standing at his office door. He didn’t look happy.

 

“Yes?” Master Solusar replied, evenly.

 

“We need to talk.”


	17. Wild Heart: Drowning

**[The Ouran, space over Falleen, the Falleen system]**  


 

Adi sat, shuddering on the pouf. Cross-legged, her brow furrowed and her eyes closed. A million points of light surrounded her – twinkling holographic stars hanging in the air all around. She was in the Star map room, a room consisting entirely of a holoprojector system. It was used more for visualisation purposes than precision navigation. In the war, Jedi generals – Oppo in particular – had often used it to abstractly plan out strategies and fronts. In times recent, its primary use had become education and meditative. And so, here Adi sat, one star system in particular hovering in focus before her face. The Teth system.  


 

Adi was jolted from her thoughts by a familiar, comforting presence drifting into the forefront of her mind. Ah. She’d wondered how long it would take him to notice. A soft hiss came behind her as the door admitted Saesee, softly sweeping in. Wordlessly, he sat on another pouf, opposite her. After a little observing her, he spoke.  


 

“What is the matter?”  


 

“Something’s… happened with Stass,” Adi began, “I can _feel_ it. Another flashback, I think.” Her eyes flickered open to meet his piercing yellow ones.  


 

“You’re worried about her.” It wasn’t a question.  


 

“Rather, yes.” Even as she said it, she looked jittery, fingers drumming on her knees. “I have a really bad feeling about this.”  


 

“I think you could stand to take your mind off matters,” Saesee replied, scratching his chin. “Fly with me?”  


 

A small upturn of her mouth as she looked at his outstretched rubbery hand. She took it.  


 

“Of course.”

 

* * *

 

**[Fwacide, the Falleen system]**

 

“Welcome, Bultar, to Los Mang Jagas – quite a sight, huh?”  


 

Bultar glanced down at the view as they came in. She had to admit it was indeed a good view. The city sprawled in a circle, out over the positively _gargantuan_ westward-facing delta as it spilled into the shallow sea, mostly fed by a very wide river snaking off into the swamplands to the east and then further still to the rainforest on the horizon, but also by other smaller tributaries. To the north was hilly rolling grasslands and the south was awash with fields upon fields of agriculture.  


 

Smaller settlements were visible dotted around from their shuttle’s vantage point, but they were all thoroughly dwarfed by the primary city itself. Los Mang Jagas was an impressive array of stone and metal, of elegant stonework and promenades offset with shiny, metal skyscrapers glittered in the noon sunshine. Rustic, masonic grand halls, plazas and monuments stood alongside durasteel spires – some old, some new – an odd, yet pretty contrast.  


 

“Dang – you’re not kidding!”  


 

Their shuttle banked, taking them towards the northern edge of the city – towards a thoroughly middle class area. The docks were nice, the buildings were nice, _everything_ was nice – hardly grand – just nice. Setting down in short order, the pair disembarked amid the hissing of venting steam and the ever-present smell of fuel.  


 

“Lethian should be waiting for us outside the port. No sense hanging around,” Micah commented as made for the bay exit. “Keep your wits about you – thieves thrive where you least expect them.”

 

Bultar nodded as he led her out of the bay into the crowded foyer. The sight that greeted her, was… interesting to say the least. Elves. Lots of elves. Very similar to humans indeed, the most noticeable differences being the pointed ears and the very broad array of hair colours. The crowd was a rainbow sea of greens, purples, reds – actual reds no less – in amongst the more humanish blacks, browns, blonds and oranges.  


 

They weren’t the interesting part, though. The interesting part was the huge, hairy, horned beast of a being striding along ahead, about twice her width and at least three times her height, hefting what looked to be an entire hyperdrive over the shoulder. She was broken from her staring – simultaneously realising she’d been doing so – by Micah suddenly pulling her aside just in time to avoid her being run over by something four-legged.  


 

“Wits, about you.” There was more than slight amusement in his voice. “The big guy’s a minotaur. The guy who nearly trampled you was a centaur – incidentally, he was trying to grab your bag.”  


 

“Um… right, right. Sorry!” She followed after him, keeping a firmer grip on her bag and trying not to look quite as much like a blatant tourist. The port was rather stuffy and dry from the heat of the day, but there was just enough tempting breeze to promise relief outside. Micah was kind enough to give a running, muttered commentary each time they passed some new type of denizen.  


 

“That’s a faun.” A pleasant-seeming fellow with a humanoid torso but furry, hooved legs and a long tail.  


 

“Goblin.” Green and short, the tallest she saw was at most three quarters her height, with beady little eyes and a long nose.  


 

“Satyr – no, not the same as a faun, look for the short tail and the horn curve.”  


 

Shortly, they came to the exit, opening out onto fresh air and a wide street.  


 

“Where is he, then?” She asked looking around. She could see several speeders parked up with waiting owners, but nobody who looked particularly like a Jedi – a pair of centaur merchants; a dark-haired elf in all leather; a goblin carrying a datapad and a scowl; a gaggle of what looked to be a school outing; another goblin, snoozing on his dashboard; and a _lot_ of taxi-drivers.  


 

“I _think_ that’s him,” Micah said, pointing at the leather-clad man. He looked quite young – and also like he had a pathological repulsion towards hairbrushes if his ebony mess was any indication.  


 

“Er… come again?” Bultar’s eyebrows would have disappeared into her fringe, were it not clipped back as always.  


 

“Yes, I think that is him.” Micah affirmed – more to himself than to Bultar.  


 

“You’re not serious,” she replied, forced to follow him as he approached the elf, who was leaning against the side of his speeder, facing away from them. Up close he looked even younger than Bultar had supposed – he couldn’t have been more than a few years older than her. His nose was buried in a small datapad – rather out of place for a guy who wore a black and blue leather jacket and whose speeder had azure flame designs painted up it.  


 

“Kienyr? How’ve you been?” Micah jovially asked.  


 

The elf looked up, recognising Micah and quickly smiling.  


 

“Master Giiett! Great to see you again! And this is Bultar, is it?” He peered in a friendly manner at her.  


 

Rather taken aback, she stared at him, before shaking her head just a tad.  


 

“Oh, sorry. I, er, wasn’t expecting…”  


 

_“This?”_ he offered helpfully, gesturing down at his attire. “It does tend to catch people off guard a lot, yeah.”

 

“Don’t get me wrong, it looks good!” she hastily clarified, “Just… well it’s not really what you expect a Jedi to be wearing.”  


 

“Well, to be honest, I get flack for it a lot, so it’s nice that you’re not cringing like Master Giiett did last time he was here.” He gave a playful grin at the oldest of them.  


 

“Yes, well,” Micah replied, “much as I don’t understand it, your clothes are _your_ clothes. Shall we get going?”  


 

“Probably a good idea, yes.” Kienyr hopped into the driver’s seat of his speeder, starting it up. “Hop in.”

 

* * *

 

 

**[Tethese, Teth]**

 

“Physically, she’s fine,” Coleman concluded, “but I’ve never known her to have an attack so soon after the last one. Neither has Agen – he’s going over our shortlist for transmission points with her, by the way, to narrow down the leak location. It’s easy work and should help distract her – ease her mind.”  


 

“It should certainly help,” replied the hologram – the glowing Roonan head of Master Lev’Loa. He spoke slowly and clearly, his deep voice warbling. “Ideally, I’d come out to see her, but I can’t just jet off to Wild Space on such short notice. I’ll want an appointment with her the moment she’s back. From the sound of it, I don’t think she’s in immediate danger.”  


 

“And if it happens again?”  


 

“Send her straight back here. I wouldn’t worry about that happening, though, it’s probably just an anomaly.”  


 

“Well, no offence, but hopefully we won’t see each other soon.”

 

A dry chuckle.  


 

“Of course – have a pleasant day, Knight Kcaj.”  


 

The hologram flickered and died, Coleman stowing his communicator and leaving the balcony. In the lounge, Stass and Agen were pouring over datapads while Norcuna and Colonel Doćo were comparing personnel files. Norcuna looked up as Coleman entered.  


 

“Well?” he asked quietly.  


 

“He’s worried,” Coleman replied, looking over at Stass.  


 

“Can she sense something is wrong?” asked Doćo.  


 

“Even if she couldn’t, I think she’s probably tipped off by the fact that this doesn’t usually happen.”  


 

Doćo nodded.  


 

“On to our mission,” Norcuna began, “Me and Colonel-”  


 

“ _Primary_ Colonel,” interjected Doćo.  


 

“ _Primary_ Colonel Doćo,” Norcuna continued, “have a tentative shortlist of possible turncoats – based off of who we think is most likely to be a target of bribery or blackmail. I’ve arranged a meeting with a contact in Black Sun tonight at one of the lower level docks. Hopefully he can help identify or narrow down our suspect pool.”  


 

* * *

 

 

**[The Ouran, Master Solusar’s office]**

 

“Am… I interrupting anything?”  


 

Masters Solusar and Sifo-Dyas looked up from their very extensive argument. Only now did it occur to either of them that Sifo-Dyas had left the door open. Standing in the open entrance was a tall, grey-haired, bearded man in a long brown cloak, tied with a metal chain between two broaches. At his belt was a curved lightsaber hilt. His deep voice had held more than a little amusement, his lined face crinkled in a small smile at the sight of them.  


 

“Count!” Sifo-Dyas beamed, recovering well and stepping forward to shake the man’s hand. “No, not at all – how long has it been, a couple months? So good of you to come by. To what do we owe the pleasure?”  


 

“Are you sure I am not intruding? I can come back-” He was cut off by Sifo-Dyas holding up his hand.  


 

“No, no, my door has always been open to you. Me and Ranik can sort this out another time.”  


 

“If you are sure,” Count Dooku continued, “I was hoping to see you, actually. I hoped we could discuss the rising tensions in the Corporate Sector – I’ve been trying to mediate and wanted your view on the situation.”

 

“Oh, of course – over lunch, then? It’s about that time. Ranik, care to join us? I’m sure your-”  


 

“No thank you,” Ranik said, curtly. Or ‘huffed’ may be more accurate.  


 

“Suit yourself,” Sifo-Dyas shrugged. The two left Ranik in his office, heading for nearby kitchens.  


 

“Trouble in paradise?” Dooku asked, evenly.  


 

“Bruck, his padawan. He’s… well, I didn’t expect Ranik to bounce perfectly back after… what happened, but _still._ He owes it to the boy to try and sort him out.”  


 

“Ah, Padawan troubles. I miss many aspects of Jedi life, but I can safely say I am glad my time as a teacher is now ended.”  


 

“Yes, I would have thought Qui-Gon was more than enough of an experience for you, but you somehow found the patience for Komari and Keelyvine after him.”  


 

“I endured. Somehow.” His wry smile flickered, before finally dropping. “Actually, Komari is part of what I wanted to talk to you about. She’s been causing some trouble. I felt it would be good to have a degree of authority in confronting her.”  


 

“Well, if you think I’m a good spokesperson for the Order, perhaps you don’t know me as well as I thought,” Sifo-Dyas replied with a smirk.  


 

“I’ve already spoken briefly with the council,” Dooku replied, “They were surprisingly keen to suggest you go along with me. I don’t know if I should be glad or not. It’s almost as if they want you out of the way to cause as few problems as possible.”  


 

“Well, if I’m not making at least one councillor’s paperwork inflate unnecessarily, what good am I for, eh?” As Sifo-Dyas spoke, they came to the kitchens. Dooku’s presence was far from unnoticed and it was only after a quick greeting from just about everyone in the room that the two could sit down on their own again. On the plus side, J’Mikel insisted on making lunch for the two, so all they had to do was sit and wait.  


 

“Well, the Komari situation can wait, more concerning is the situation in the Corporate Sector – you heard what happened to Iaco Stark on Castell?”  


 

“As a matter of fact, no – what did happen?”  


 

“Darth Phobos herself saw fit to pay him visit – he’s now on a psychiatric ward waiting for someone with the knowledge to undo whatever it is she did to him. He won’t stop screaming.”  


 

“Well, I can’t say I feel sorry for him,” Sifo-Dyas sighed as J’Mikel set both plates down in front of them. “Thank you, J’Mikel.”  


 

“Yes, thank you very much.” Dooku offered a charming smile before turning back to his friend. “Well, the problem is that Castell is deep in Republic territory – while nobody can _prove_ Darth Phobos’s intrusion, there is no doubt in anybody’s mind it was her. The Corporate Sector is not deep in Republic territory, as you may remember – it is on the other side of Sith space. If the Sith are so willing to brazenly make a move on Castell, you can see why CorpSec’s various worlds are getting nervous.  


 

“And the entire region turns into a paranoid, twitchy mess.” Sifo-Dyas finished for him.  


 

“Exactly. I wanted your thoughts on approaching the matter – CorpSec’s been playing at neutral for centuries, allowing both Republic and Sith elements to come and go for years. This has many of the powers there worried, however. If they outright sided with the Republic, or the Sith had a sudden change of heart… well, they’d be on their own at the edge of known space.”  


 

“So, more than a few elements are beginning to seriously think about unambiguously joining the Sith?”  


 

“Exactly.”  


 

“Well, I think, ultimately, the best course of action would be to try and convince them that the Sith are, well, dangerous – show them the documentation of the atrocities.”  


 

“And what if that terrifies them into capitulating even faster?”  


 

“Hmm, good point.” Sifo-Dyas scratched his chin. “Well, maybe channel their self-interest – point out how well their neutral position has benefitted them over the years.”  


 

“That is what I thought, yes, but I wanted your opinion on it – do you think it could work?”  


 

“CorpSec is _run_ by the interests of the wallet. I think it’d be a very good avenue. Now, enough stalling with all this political talk please.” Sifo-Dyas’s voice dropped. “Let’s talk about why you really wanted to see me – you mentioned Komari?”  


 

“Yes. She resurfaced – and she’s been killing. Publicly.” The lines on Dooku's face grew deeper and heavier as he spoke, weighed down by regret.  


 

“Ah. Oh dear, that… what do you intend to do?”  


 

“I need to stop her. I’d rather take her alive, but I have my doubts it will be so simple. I spoke with the council and they think a member of the Order should also go – you.”  


 

Sifo-Dyas nodded, understandingly.  


 

“Very well. But let me settle a few things first. Give me… a couple of days?”  


 

“Of course.” Dooku steepled his fingers together, thinking briefly. “Would it be possible to involve your contact? The Mandalorian?”

 

“Fett? Certainly. I just need to give him a rendezvous point. Where is Komari?”

 

* * *

 

Stass lay in the bath, relaxing in thought. Or at least, she was trying to. Norcuna had gone to meet his contact with Doćo and Coleman, leaving the Padawans behind. She found the water somewhat soothing at least. Certainly a welcome reprieve from a day of worrying. Agen hadn’t said anything, but she _knew_ he was worried.  


 

With good reason. Nothing like this had happened before.  


 

Trying to shake off her trepidation, she closed her eyes, trying to figuratively sink into the warm water.

 

* * *

 

The reverberating shriek of the blast echoed throughout the clearing. The young girl, no more than five, hit the ground hard, tears brimming at her eyes, a smoking mark on the too large armour piece.  


 

“Better, but you’re landing all wrong, dear.” Came the voice of her mother, tutting and holstering her pistol. “Come on, up and we’ll try again.”  


 

The girl didn’t move, aside from gasping out lungfuls of air. Aeris sighed, rolling her eyes and marched over.  


 

“I said, _up_.” She reached down and pulled the child to her feet, roughly. “Honestly, it’s like you don’t _want_ to make your mummy happy.”  


 

She positioned her daughter, standing straight, then backed up, pulling out her weapon again and taking aim.  


 

There was another blast, but this one missed – the girl having dropped into a ball.  


 

“Damnit, you won’t learn how to cope with pain like _that!”_ Aeris huffed. “Up again and we’ll do this properly-”  


 

“No!” The child shouted, flinching back away from Aeris’s advance.  


 

“No?” Aeris stopped dead. “What did you just say, young lady?” Her voice had a cool quality to it now.  


 

“I- I want to go home!”  


 

Aeris frowned, pulling her daughter up. Then she gave her a swift backhand.  


 

“Do not talk back to me, young lady, I a-” Again, she stopped, looking at the tiny pinprick of red on her daughter’s face. She glanced down at her hand, specifically at the ring she wore on her little finger. She must have forgotten to take it off after the morning’s meeting with the soon to be very deceased diplomat. “Oh. The virus.” She paled.  


 

And then, she dropped to her knees, quickly hugging her daughter.  


 

“I’m sorry, so sorry, mummy got carried away! You understand, don’t you?” Her daughter only stood rigid as Aeris rambled, clutching her daughter close, seemingly on the verge of tears. “We need to get home, yes, see the physician. Stass, come here, we’re going home!” She stood, addressing the four-year-old, who had been off to the side watching everything with wide eyes.  


 

When they entered the main foyer of the Allie estate, Aeris did not waste any time in calling the physician, even despite being somewhat beside herself. The perfect anxious parent.  


 

“It’s Naoru – she’s very unwell, she must have caught something!” Indeed, Naoru was overheating by this point, feverish and sweating heavily. She went downhill rapidly after that, Aeris growing more and more frantic, shakily clutching on to Uehara when he ran into the infirmary.  


 

By the evening, Naoru couldn’t even sit up, Stass had been in to see her, or see her as well as she could through the containment unit. She’d heard the physician mention ‘Rectavirus’ several times, but would not know what that meant until years later. In the morning, her parents came in to Stass’s room to tell her, distraught, that Naoru had gone away – to join her older brother.  


 

* * *

 

 

The flight had done a lot to take Adi’s mind off of Stass. It was something that she felt so free doing, dancing and twisting through the skies and now she and Saesee were sitting cross-legged in her room, opposite each other and meditating together. As long as they had been friends, which had indeed been a very long time, they had taken to sharing their minds, melding them to meditate and find a closeness difficult to describe to others. Harmony. Understanding. Naturally, people talked, gossiped, but she’d long since blocked that out. Saesee was the only one who really _got_ her – and her him. She certainly wasn’t going to let the ignorant mewling get in the way of that.  


 

As their minds synchronised, both took a deep breath in, then let it out. Everything, right down to their pulses was now in step.  


 

No secrets.  


 

No miscommunication.  


 

Only understanding and trust.  


 

Unsurprisingly, Saesee was still mourning for his recently deceased master, Omo Bouri. Again, she drew him into her – a sort of mental hug, with far more meaning than a regular one. But there wasn’t much she felt she could do beyond be there for when he was ready. He knew that as she did, understanding and thankful.

 

They progressed onto Adi’s most pressing concern, soothed, but still very much at the surface: Stass.  


 

Adi could feel Saesee’s suggestion – reach out, get a feeling for Stass, to make sure she was alright. Or at least not too much in trouble.  


 

It was a good idea. Casting their melded mind out, reaching across the stars, the immense scale of the galaxy as nothing against their search. It didn’t take long to follow the connection between Adi and her cousin to Teth, sharper focus coming as their consciousness got closer, closer. And finally-  


 

Pain!  


 

Fear!  


 

Something was wrong! Terribly wrong! A shadow seemed closing around Stass, like an indistinct fist clenching, swallowing her, drowning her! In shock, the pair stumbled back, retreating into themselves, shielding each other from… whatever _that_ was.  


 

Stass was in danger. More than anybody else realised. In the splinter of their mind’s eye, Adi and Saesee had glimpsed something sinister, malevolent, but also confident and self-satisfied.  


 

Whatever it was, it was dangerous. Adi had to get there, now. Had to save Stass.  


 

But, Saesee pointed out, Adi was panicking, riled up – in _no_ state to face this.  


 

But Adi had to go. Stass needed help. She _had_ to go.  


 

But she couldn’t go – shouldn’t go, not like this. Saesee couldn’t let her. He was also the master telepath. Adi’s capabilities had always been more geared towards the physical. And so Saesee did something neither ever believed he would do. He stopped her. Adi knew as soon as he did what he was doing, but could not stop him. The weight of his mind was crushing hers like an egg, suppressing, smothering. _Drowning._  


 

No! She had to go! She had to save Stass! Stass needed her! He couldn’t let her go, though, she’d die. He couldn’t lose his friend. But she _had_ to help Stassandpleasedon’tdothissheneedsmjnsjkbdfbmajbsm-  


 

I’m sorry.  


 

Adi’s eyes rolled back into her head as she keeled over, into Saesee’s arms. Gently, he lay his unconscious, closest friend back onto her bed. He could only hope she could forgive him.  


 

_Of course_ she would forgive him. She already had; he could sense it. That didn’t make him feel much better, though.

 

* * *

 

 

Suddenly, choking and spluttering, Stass found herself being hauled out of the bath. In seconds, a towel was around her and her vision was filled with Agen’s face. His expression was a mix of alarm, relief, horror and anger.  


 

“Dammit, Stass!” He shouted. “You _promised me_ – **_PROMISED_** – that you wouldn’t lock bathroom doors anymore! Not after last time this happened!”  


 

Stass was dazed, trying to piece together what was going on as she became dimly aware that he was clutching her very tightly.  


 

“Wh- door?” It finally all came into sharp focus. The bathroom door over his shoulder had a gaping hole in it, the edges glowing with the tell-tale molten trails of Agen’s lightsaber. The two of them were on the bathmat and there was a lot of water on all over the floor. Something else struck her.  


 

“Agen… I didn’t lock the door.”  


 

Agen briefly let go to stare at her. Quietly, he leant her against the side of the bath, then got up to inspect the door. Locked. Frowning, he turned to the open window. It was a cold night. Why would the window be open?  


 

“Did you open the window, Stass?” he quietly asked.  


 

He got the answer he dreaded, a headshake.  


 

Slowly, he approached it and inspected it. The magnetic bolt was exposed on the outer frame and disengaged.  


 

[ “Someone forced this open. From outside.” ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rK-19lEHO60)


	18. Wild Heart: Psychological Warfare

 

**[Docking Bay M63, Tethese, Teth, The Teth System]**  
  
“That does it. Stass goes home first thing tomorrow,” Coleman said, worriedly. He, Norcuna and Doćo had ducked into an alley to answer Agen’s panicked transmission. “We’ll see about this informant and come straight back. Lock the hotel apartment down and don’t answer the door.”  
  
“What about the investigation? And whoever tried to kill Stass?” Agen’s blue hologram asked.  
  
“We’ll be staying here; we’ll deal with it,” added Norcuna.  
  
“Understood.” Agen’s image flickered and dissolved.  
  
“We had better get this meeting done,” said Doćo, “If someone’s targeting your group, picking at the weak link-”  
  
“Stass is _not_ a weak link,” Coleman snapped sternly.  
  
“Evidently, someone disagrees,” Doćo replied, matching Coleman’s tone. “Whether you acknowledge that or not does not change that.”  
  
“With respect, Colonel-”  
  
_“Primary Colonel.”_  
  
_“Colonel_ Doćo. Maybe you should stay out of matters that you don ‘t understand and know nothing about.”  
  
“Enough. Both of you.” Norcuna’s voice was curt and final. “It is an unideal situation, true, but we cannot afford division right now. We have a meeting to make.”  
  
Norcuna led them out into the streets again, weaving their way into the docks. Quickly, they came to the bay that his contact had arranged to be at. Stepping inside, he cast his eyes around. Nobody was visible, though there was an old and beaten up G9 Rigger freighter and a sizeable cargo of what looked like fuel cells.  
  
“Hello?” he called into the bay.  
  
“Over here!” Came the reply after a pause, the voice seemed to be at the end of the bay. Approaching the splendid view of the Tethan landscape, the trio looked around. Stooping by more fuel cells was a gangly human, in his forties by the look of him, tightening a valve on one of the cells.  
  
“Ah, Norcuna, there you are. So glad you could come!”  
  
Something was _off_ about his smile. He seemed to be sweating more than a little.  
  
“Likewise… though I have to ask what is the matter.”  
  
“Matter? Nothing! Nothing at all! Now, what is it you wanted information on?”  
  
Coleman and Doćo glanced at each other behind Norcuna. Well that wasn’t suspicious at all.~  
  
“I’m looking into who’s trying to smuggle some serious contraband off-world. Government secrets kind of contraband.”  
  
The contact’s expression said it all. His face went taut, eyes almost bulging.  
  
“Ah. Yes. We should probably talk on my ship then.” He led the way, his shirt gaining visible stains of sweat as he went.  
  
“That’s encouraging…” Coleman muttered.  
  
The contact babbled a bit as he approached his ship.  
  
“You see, rumour’s been going round about a woman, asking for help getting some really, really hot cargo offw-” His voice died as the gangplank lowered. It was another fuel cell, with a small metal pack on top. Red light pulsed in time to the device's soft beeping. On its display was a single word in Aurebesh.  
  
'Armed.'  
  
The man's face was ashen.  
  
“But, but she said-”  
  
_“RU-”_  
  
BOOM!  
  
The fireball consumed Norcuna’s contact immediately. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as the room sprung yellow, filling vision and senses, igniting the cargo in a blistering lightshow. Then the shockwave hit, snapping time harshly back to reality. Shock replaced terror as they were blown of their feet. Straight out the hangar mouth - and straight down.

* * *

 

  
**[The Xinka Hotel, Tethese]**  
  
Agen heard the knock at his door and set the datapad down. He was sitting up in bed, as he often did in the evenings.  
  
“Come in, Stass; it’s unlocked.”  
  
The door opened, revealing his friend. She wore an odd expression of nervous apprehension and fatigue.  
  
“Um… I-” she stopped, fidgeted a little, then started again. “I can’t sleep. I don’t- Um. Could I sleep with you?” She flushed a little as she realised her mistake. “N-not _sleep with_ you; I mean j-just sleep in bed with you and- FUCK that sounds as bad, damn it! Er-”  
  
“Stass,” he interrupted her rambling, “I get it – what you’re trying to say.”  
  
“Oh. Um, right.” She fell silent, waiting.  
  
Agen pinched the bridge of his nose. Fuck it. He was probably going to regret this.  
  
“Oh, _fine._ For one night only, okay?”  
  
She nodded, fully entering and quickly slipping under the covers to lie next to him. Agen too, figured he’d better try and get some sleep. Turning off the light he laid down with his back against hers.  
  
“Night,” she muttered.  
  
Agen only grunted, eyes flickering shut.  
  
Warmth surrounded Stass, permeating every inch of her. But more than that; someone was embracing her. Rolling over slightly, she spied Agen’s face, lit by a warm smile. His finger was at her lips in an instant and he began leaning down to her.  
  
Oh, she’d had _this_ dream before…  
  
His finger traced across her face, caressing her chin. Her vision was _filled_ with his smile, those comforting eyes. As he came very close indeed, face to face, his hand slid down, following her neck. And all of a sudden…  
  
She couldn’t breathe. His grip was strong, the smile turned cruel. Trapped, terrified, she couldn’t move. Agen was throttling the life out of her. She tried frantically to pull his hands away. This was _wrong,_ what was happening? Her vision was fading, darkness clouding. She gave one, last, desperate tug… and fell into the dark.

* * *

 

  
With a shriek, she _flew_ bolt upright in bed, waking Agen with a startled yell. She scrambled out of bed in a panic, incoherent and drenched in sweat, tumbling onto the floor with a thump.  
  
“Stass, what the fu-”  
  
“Get _back!”_ Stass howled over his question. Rational thought was dead in her, crushed by fear and alarm and _instinct._ Flight won in less than a second. Flailing, she ignored his confused protests, running from the room.  
  
Agen groaned, his hands twitching as they held his head. What had happened? This was a first, even in all the years he had known Stass.  
  
Shakily, he began to get up. He stumbled from his room, searching for Stass. All he found was the open front door. His stomach plummeted at the sight. Master. Master Kcaj. They’d know what to do. Trembling fingers fumbled for -then with- his communicator. Three, Eight- dammit, not Six. Deep breath, Agen. Three. Eight. Five.  
  
He waited.  
  
Nothing.  
  
He tried again. A third time. Still no reply.  
  
The spark of panic in his guts was now a flame.  
  
No. Pull yourself together. Concentrate; focus. This is neither the time, nor place for being upset.  
  
Agen was a rather simple person, at heart. He had a short list of qualities he kept sharpened to a razor’s edge and another list of problems he blunted and dulled through training. One of the foremost qualities was his ability to rationalise. Stop, think. Take stock of the situation and take _action._ One step at a time. With his breathing slowing, he composed himself.  
  
Situation: Stass was gone, who knew where, in a compromised state of mind and serious need of help. Their masters and presumably Primary Colonel Doćo were beyond reach – either by need or by outside interference.  
  
Action: Firstly, find Stass. Secondly, calm her down. Third, return to the hotel suite.  
  
With no other options open to him, he returned to his room. Time to step up. It did not take him long to get fully dressed and geared up. Utility belt, lightsaber, both check. He took one final look around the room. Stass’s lightsaber – it lay on the side. Taking that, too, he left. Time to find his friend.

* * *

 

  
All Norcuna knew was falling. His scream had been ripped from him by both the blast and his rapid descent. Tumbling down, catching flashes of rock pillar and the occasional hangar, followed by night sky and the steamy canopy thousands of feet below. At least the wind and cold meant he wasn’t on fire anymore.  
  
And then the wind was torn out of him again as something slammed into his gut.  
  
Now he was rising – who knew how, but he wasn’t going to question it. Slumped over whatever was carrying him, he watched the ground moving away, in a strange state of transfixion. There was a sudden _flump_ and dimly, he saw Doćo’s wind-battered face in his peripheral – about as confused as Norcuna felt. All became clear quickly, as his eye found the rippling of a cloak. Shaking his daze away, he brought his head up to look at the wall. Legs, a pair of them – booted and clothed – running at a blur and barely distinguishable, propelling their rescuer up and up.  
  
Barely a second after he’d registered this, he and Doćo found themselves roughly hurled into the mouth of a hangar. Immediately, Norcuna doubled over and retched onto the floor. His eyes stung, dripping inflamed tears and the direction of up was a bit unclear. Shivering right to his bones, he mercifully felt the warmth of the hangar return to him. He just about managed to look up, seeing Coleman hanging from the mouth of the bay by his arms with a panicked look on his triangular face.  
  
“Little help?!” He practically shrieked at the disoriented pair.  
  
Needing no more prompting, they each grabbed an arm and hauled him up, all three collapsing as soon as he was safe. Catching enough breath to speak again, Coleman spluttered.  
  
“And _that_ made the… Force Speed…. worth learning.”  
  
He sat up and looked around, trying to calm his erratic breathing. They weren’t in the same docking bay that they’d started in – the number eighty-three was daubed on the wall in aurebesh.  
  
“So… golden question,” Norcuna began, “how could they know we are here already? Whoever ‘they’ are.”  
  
“It would have required a great deal of infiltration ability to even learn of our presence this soon,” Coleman supplied, “much less target Stass in such a way. Hmm.” He felt the answer was just out of reach. It was eluding him somehow and he couldn’t see why. “We need to see how Stass and Agen are. We need to think about this.” Taking his communicator from his belt, he found there was a message on it. Falling through the sky and then running at _technically_ impossible speed up a rock wall carrying two people had left him rather blind to any ringing. He played the message for all of them to hear.  
  
Agen’s transparent figure burst into view before them: rattled, dishevelled and half-dressed. He was also speaking five times as much as he usually would.  
“Masters! I-I’ve lost Stass! We were asleep together and then sh-she suddenly woke up screaming! She left – left the hotel and I don’t know where she’s gone! I hope you’re okay, but I can’t wait! I’m going out to look for her; call me when you get this!”  
  
The image faded, leaving behind a deathly silence. The three looked at each other.  
  
“We are being separated,” said Norcuna, without a moment’s doubt or hesitation. “Picked apart and isolated to weaken us. Make us easier to deal with. Easier to kill. Stass is the only healer among us, too – most likely why she was first targeted. Agen is a bonus.” He stood, discarding the burnt remnants of his cloak and tossing his lekku behind his shoulders. “No more separations for now. We move together. Coleman, contact Agen, we’ll meet him and then track down Stass. Keep your wits about you – the last thing we want is an ambush that kills us all at once.”  
  
Coleman nodded, dialling back. There was no answer. Frowning, he called again.  
  
Nope.  
  
Third time? A fourth? Nothing.  
  
“Balls.”

* * *

 

  
Agen followed Stass's trail faithfully. A simple matter, really: years of friendship...through the Force. Yet there wasn't much rhyme or reason to it, twisting and turning as it did through back alleys and streets.  
How in the galaxy could she have gotten so far so fast? Left and right, meandering between back passages, dodging beggars, bins, seedy individuals and even some odd fellow muttering to himself. Wherever Stass was going, it was getting further and further from the parts of town that were most secure and he was fairly certain that that was _not_ a coincidence. He could hardly see any officers now - the hotel area being well-populated by them. Those he did see looked warier, more experienced. Definitely a hub of destitution and danger.  
  
Quite a few levels down from where he’d started and deep into the depths of the hollowed mesa, less and less light penetrated. This was not a safe area at the best of times – much less for a friend who was in the middle of an episode. Then, suddenly, out of nowhere the trail went dead. Cold as ice. He couldn’t sense her anymore. His run came to an equally abrupt halt. Stood at the mouth of an alleyway, looking left and right into the dingy road it opened into, he felt nothing from her.  
  
What did that mean? He’d never _not_ been able to sense her – even when they’d been on opposite ends of the galaxy, he’d still been able to feel her in the back of his mind.  
  
But now?  
  
Nothing.  
  
His constant companion, lifelong friend, was lost to him.  
  
The memory of their first meeting, all those years ago, pounded in his minds’ eye. It had been on Coruscant – they had both been only five. It was a clear memory to him, a warm, but cloudy day. Everyone else in his clan had been outside, having some sort of lawn picnic. He’d opted to stay inside and get homework out the way. Maybe read a little, nothing much. He never really _liked_ crowds or talking much anyway – let alone _mingling._  
  
His studies had been interrupted by muffles from the other side of his bedroom door. Curiosity getting the better of him, he’d gotten up and opened it to reveal Knight Gallia, of all people, carrying the last of a small set out boxes into the room opposite. The room had, until then, been unoccupied. The rooms were the last in the dormitory, situated at the very end of the corridor with only the clan instructor’s room on the end.  
  
Standing in the corridor had been a girl about his age. She’d looked similar to Knight Gallia, but only superficially – different eyes, more pronounced cheeks, shorter face. Her eyes had nervously flitted to look at him, before darting away. Knight Gallia had set the last box on the bedside desk, then turned to find Agen peeking out his door.  
  
“Ah… Youngling… Kolar, was it?”  
  
He had nodded, quietly, as he had been and still was want to do.  
  
“This is my cousin, Stass Allie.” She had gestured to the girl. “She’s been rather sad of late and could use a friend. You wouldn’t be so kind as to be that friend, would you?”  
  
It had seemed such a simple thing, saying yes with little thought, but it had had a profound impact on his and Stass’s life.  
  
Snapping back to the present, Agen gave a little wave of his head. She was gone now. He didn’t know what to do. Just half an hour ago, he’d been so confident, so sure. And now… what had he been _thinking?_ He fumbled for his communicator – had to try to reach Master, or Knight Kcaj.  
  
His hand found only empty space.  
  
It was gone – his communicator. He’d made certain to secure it on his belt before he’d left. Dammit, he’d passed so many random strangers in his chase. Many of them had looked untrustworthy at the best of times and _any_ of them could have swiped it. Looking around, he also had no idea where he was. At all.  
  
No.  
  
Nonono.  
  
The stinging of his glistening eyes took more out of him than he would have thought. Almost caving in, he flopped into a crouching foetal position, curling up and trying not to sob.  
  
He was _useless._  
  
“Whatever is the matter?”  
  
What the-  
  
Standing behind Agen, was an average height, largely unassuming Umbaran. He looked well into his years, yet there was a fair amount of spring in his kindly smile. Doing a double-take, Agen leaped backwards, putting some distance between them. _How_ had he not sensed him coming? It was as if he’d just materialised out of nowhere.  
  
“Who are _you?”_ This man could not have looked more out of place in this shitty little crime alley if he _tried._ Well-dressed, well-mannered and fairly clean. Agen knew a rat when he smelled one, personal anxiety or not. Struggling to keep a degree of discipline, he let his hand rest at his belt. Weapon still there, good.  
  
Holding up his empty hands in front of him, the man gave a soft, winning smile, before replying.  
  
“Now, now, no need to be anxious. I’m just a friend looking to help. You do _want_ some help looking for your friend, don’t you, Agen?”  
  
The padawan started.  
  
“How do you know my name?” He was fixing the man with a rather potent scan. He did not like this one bit.  
  
“Oh, I know everybody’s name, Agen – but you especially, at least right now. So, do you want my help? It’s up to you, but, well, I worry for your friend…”  
  
… Well this was proceeding at a blazing pace. Agen was barely trying to keep his composure as it was and now this… man. Where had he even _come_ from?  
  
“You still haven’t told me who you are?” Agen said, still suspicious. Friendly demeanour or not, he certainly wasn’t going to trust this guy as far as he could throw him.  
  
“Oh, I’m someone like you. Just like you, as it happens. I caught your sense and decided you would need some help. It’s not safe out here on your own.” Again, he offered a warm smile. “Shall we?” He gestured to the right turn behind Agen. “Time is against us, I think.”  
  
Agen frowned. His instincts screamed that this was a trap. But at the same time, he was lost, with no leads, no contact to the others and every second wasted was not doing Stass any favours. He really wanted to go and hyperventilate right now. He forced that down – he _had_ work to do. He’d have to play whatever bizarre game this man was playing.  
  
“Very well. Lead on.”

* * *

 

  
**[Unknown]**  
  
Stass jerked awake, eyes clearing to her surroundings. Wherever she was, it was dark. Things were still somewhat blurry. She shook herself, vision returning a bit more. Her shaking made her rather aware that she was sitting, her arms rather uncomfortably held behind her. A quick test revealed it to be some sort of metal binding.  
  
Concentrate. Focus.  
  
Yes, she could feel with her fingers now. Magnacuffs – but not a model she was personally familiar with. Glancing down, she didn’t seem to be otherwise restrained. She looked up, to see a glass window – though whatever was beyond it was dark, giving only a reflection of the room she was in. It seemed mostly empty. Just her, cuffed on the chair, a locked door, a table strewn with datapads, an armchair or two to the side, Darth Phobos sitting on the arm of one and meeting Stass’s eyes through the reflection, a set of lockers- waaaat.  
  
Stass almost reeled out of her chair as Phobos waved, a somewhat jovial smile on her face, again watching through the reflection.  
  
“Hey, you’re awake! Sleep well?” The Theelin Dark Lord seemed far more pleased than Stass’s sense of wellbeing liked.  
  
Oookay, Stass, let’s try not to freak out over the fact that one of _the_ Dark Lords of the Sith was almost right behind her, merry as can be. She failed. Squirming, she made to dive out of the chair in the direction of the door. She bounced off of an invisible barrier, ricocheting back into place in her seat.  
  
“Yeah, you’re not going anywhere,” Phobos said, drumming her fingers absent-mindedly on the chair arm she was on. “You’re going to be doing me a favour. Well, okay, I say favour, but you really don’t have a choice in the matter and I’m probably never going to ever do anything for you… but still. We’ve got a little while to wait for the last piece to fall into place before we can start, though, so if you’ll calm down, we can wait like civilised people.”  
  
Recognising futility when she saw it, Stass remained still, mutinously.  
  
Phobos held out a hand in the direction of the table, summoning a datapad from it. Flopping into the armchair and lazily sitting sideways in it, she dangled her legs over the side and inspected the device.  
  
“You know, when I’m planning, picking my targets, one of the things that always catches my eye is the phrase _“emotional dependence”_ in a personal file. But you? You are almost the _jackpot._ I mean, really… I grew up in a _warzone_ and yet _I_ have had a far more stable childhood than you. Just… listen to _this!”_  
  
She began reading aloud from the datapad. “ _‘Physically and psychologically abused in secret from a young age, Padawan Allie suffered extensive maltreatment and even torture at the hands of her mother, who was diagnosed with acute, extreme and deep-rooted, but extremely well-hidden Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder. When separated and detained, Aeris Allie exhibited severe distress and violent outbursts. In short, she had a pathological need to control her children – to form them into her vision of perfection and only her perfection. Lady Allie’s deliberate subterfuge for more than five years of her actions indicate she was fully aware of what she was doing and that she was unwilling to seek help or even attempt to change her destructive behaviour.’_ ”  
  
Feared serial killer in the room or no, Stass was pissed. She thrashed in outrage, trying to resist the unseen force that was pinning her in place.  
  
“Oh, stop wasting your time,” Phobos commented, watching the girl with amusement. “My capabilities with The Force are so far beyond you that it’s actually funny.”  
  
Stass didn’t care. She was livid. She wanted nothing more than to leap from this damn seat and shove that datapad down the smug bitch’s throat. But she couldn’t get up, no matter how hard she struggled. And Phobos was only half-paying attention to her, too, still reading from the file.  
  
“Now where was I? Ah yes. _‘It is believed that Padawan Allie’s elder siblings’ deaths – originally thought to have been from natural causes – are likely to have been at the very least catalysed by Lady Allie’s abuse. It is also suspected that Padawan Allie witnessed the events that lead to the death of at least her sister, Naoru.’_ That’s how I got the idea to point you down that particular bit of memory lane, by the way, I was curious if you had or not. Anyway, moving on. _‘It is unclear how permanent Padawan Allie’s psychological damage is. She has made a strong friendship with Padawan Kolar – possibly a Force bond – as well as other deep, yet lesser, friendships with several others over the years. It is strongly advised that Stass be encouraged to foster these friendships, to help her heal emotionally. Already, vast improvements have been made in Stass’s ability to socialise. She came to our order as an asocial, mute and periodically violent young lady; today, she is friendly, fun-loving and even enjoys joking around with her friends. However, two serious problems remain.’_ ” Phobos chuckled, glancing at Stass again, through the reflection. She winked, getting only a glare from Stass in return.  
  
“Now _this_ is where things hit the jackpot for me.” She returned to reading, an almost manic glee creeping into her voice the more she read. “ _‘Padawan Allie suffers from periodic, but intense flashbacks of her ordeal, usually while asleep. These episodes usually paralyse her and trigger extreme terror. It is unclear exactly what can or should be done to help alleviate this. Sessions with trained therapists have yielded mixed results, as have sessions with healers. There does not seem to be a consistent method of reducing them.’_ Holy shit, it’s like a big flashing sign telling me that you were _made_ for me to come along and exploit this!” Phobos gave a small chuckle.  
  
She was, however, interrupted from reading any more by the creaking of the door opening.  
  
“Ah, at last!”  
  
A hooded Umbaran stepped in, smoothing the front of his cloak. Close behind him, was Agen.  
  
“Phobos. Been keeping our guest entertained, I take it?”  
  
Agen took one look at Stass, handcuffed in the chair, then went for his belt. In a flash, both his and Stass’s lightsabers ignited in each hand, a Jar’Kai opening stance.  
  
That was, however, as far as he got. He couldn’t move. He wasn’t even breathing, just frozen in place. Eyes wide in alarm, they cast around the room, taking in Phobos in the chair, then locking on to the Umbaran’s closed fist that was held up. Slowly, the man turned his head to look at Agen, his features suddenly becoming much more recognisable – _why_ hadn’t Agen recognised him before?!  
  
He was staring into the grinning face of Darth Ruin himself. Another of the Dark Lords.  
  
“Now that wasn’t very nice, Agen,” he almost purred. The lightsabers flew from the boy’s grasp, neatly lining up side by side on the table of datapads. Agen found himself a few feet off the ground, still trapped in his ready stance. Mercifully, his breathing returned to him, deep, desperate and afraid.  
  
Ruin turned to address Phobos.  
  
“Ready to begin?” He asked.  
  
“Been waiting for a while. Read her file to her. Don’t think she liked it,” came the reply as Phobos stood. “Personally, I don’t see what you see in the kid, but hey, I don’t see why this blast cannon is worth sending _me.”_  
  
Phobos crossed to Stass, standing behind her and looking at her through the mirror of the darkened window.  
  
“And now is when you get to do me my favour!” Her fingers clasped Stass’s shoulders, in some mock parody of friendliness. “You see, with your issues, you’re just perfect to turn into a gibbering wreck. And with you messed up beyond belief, your pesky masters aren’t going to be able to do much to safeguard the Teth government’s little project. So while they are in headless chicken mode trying to help you, I’ll be robbing them blind. Now you might think that’s a bit much for our R &D people to send little old me over, but a favour is a favour and a job is a job.” Her friendly smile was back in place.  
  
“Such a shame that your Jedi training is so insufficient to help you save your friend,” Ruin was now speaking to the paralysed Agen, but making sure his voice carried over to the others. “But fear not! For I am here to help you! You see, I am not here for something so trivial as small arms. I am here, well, to help you. I can smell your potential from across the galaxy. I want to set you free. And then you can help keep your friend safe.” He turned, heading for another door, beside the window. He opened it, flicking on a light, revealing a padded training room beyond the window. “And that is why I am going to begin your new training. The first day of your new path. I’m going to help you unlock the tools to save your friend. But I’m sure you’ll need more convincing to play ball, so let’s talk!” He took Agen into the training room, the door shutting and locking behind him.  
  
Phobos leaned down to Stass’s ear, whispering into it.  
  
“He’s going to have a front row seat to you losing your mind. It’s one of Ruin’s favourite motivations. He’s oh so good at what he does, breaking people and building them up again. Me? I just break people. And today it’s your turn.” She straightened up and walked round to Stass’s front. “Your friend is going on the fast train to the Dark Side, your masters are going to be burdened by your gibbering remains and I’m going to get away with espionage! And it’ll be all your fault.” Another of those sinister smiles.  
  
Wasting no time, she drove her foot into Stass’s chest, sending her teetering back and over, the floor, the walls, window and ceiling, her whole surroundings, shattering like glass. The girl plunged into darkness and a swirl of her own history.  
  
“Through the looking glass and down the rabbit hole we go!” Phobos’s voice rang out from all around. “Nothing personal.”  
  
Stass felt … disgusting. Disgusted with herself and like total and utter faecal matter.  
  
It was all her fault.

* * *

 

  
Snapping to focus with a jolt, Stass somehow managed to not scream. She was in the cafeteria, back on Coruscant, in the temple. Her hands were smaller. Agen, beside her, was younger – as was K’Kruhk to the right. Both only had the smallest nubs of horns and tusks respectively. This was… she was _twelve._ And then she saw the date on her timekeeper. Her blood froze in her. No… oh no.  
  
There was a hand on her shoulder. Knowing what she would find, she looked up. Into the emerald eyes of her mother. It was the day she came back. This had at least explained why she’d overheard Master Reivzx having a shouting match with someone in her office the other day. Master Reivzx _never_ shouted. She’d later learned that her mother’s supposed reform and clean bill of mental health had tied everyone’s hands in the matter. The Jedi couldn’t legally prevent her from coming. On the upside, what transpired over the coming days served as a flashpoint that caused some major reforms in family law.  
  
It hadn’t helped _her_ much, though.  
  
The smile, that horrendous, disgustingly saccharine smile of her mother’s was back.  
  
“My dear, I’ve missed you so much!”  
  
She was shaking. Almost every instructor’s eye in the hall was watching, scrutinising. The memory played in fast forward, her mother putting on her eternal act of sweetness and repentance, all the while plotting and waiting. Even the arrival of her father to oversee didn’t deter her. Not the outright death threat from Adi, nor Agen’s ever-present, violent gaze that promised bloody murder.  
  
Eventually, there came a point where Stass wasn’t being watched, for only a brief amount of time. And suddenly, the old mother was back in full force. In but a moment, Stass had been taken, she relived it, relived the moment the smile had turned cruel, the moment Aeris overpowered her and dragged her into one of the maintenance tunnels. A microscopic needle later and Stass was limp, barely aware of the world – to deaden the Jedi from sensing where she was. Aeris wasted little to no time, stuffing Stass into an air vent in a maintenance stairwell.  
  
But then…  
  
**_“WHERE IS SHE!”_ **  
  
Master Zourvux Reivzx was extremely attentive when it came to the safety of younglings. It had taken her less than a minute to realise something was wrong and barely five to find Aeris, just coming out of the stairwell. Groggy and barely conscious, Stass’s recollection of events was almost out-of-body, just a limp view out of the vent cover at the sheer, unbridled rage of Master Reivzx, with Adi in tow.  
  
Aeris only smirked.  
  
“I have _no_ idea what you are talking about, Master. Check the security footage if you don’t believe me.” The footage had been tampered with, of course. Her mother had made sure of that. But Zourvux had not been fooled, not even for an instant. She had _loomed_ right up to Aeris, face to face, looking her in the eye.  
  
“I am going to _destroy you_ for this.”  
  
Aeris’s smirk had only widened. She began walking past both of the women to the exit.  
  
“Master, whatever you are raving about-”  
  
_Crunch!_  
  
Seemingly out of nowhere, a pale fist cracked into the woman’s jaw. A cloaked blur of purple, brown and a little grey followed it up with a vicious kick as it flew through the now-open door. The victim staggered back in a daze, not even getting a chance to react. Wasting absolutely no time, more blows followed, forcing her over the railing. The blur followed, falling with her and raining yet more harsh, brutal hits. Strike by bloody strike. Punching, kicking, _beating_ her all the way down.  
  
Only able to stare in surprise at the rapid, violent spree that had just vanished from sight, it took Adi a moment to recover. Turning to Zourvux, she managed words.  
  
“Did _you know_ the Dark Woman was back?”  
  
The memory froze.  
  
“Wait.” Phobos materialised, in the middle of the scene. She looked both confused and more than slightly peeved. “Why is _this_ part in it? It’s one of your only cherished _anythings_ involving your-” Her eyes snapped wide. She rotated on the spot. There was another intruder in the tableau, also not frozen and who had definitely _not_ been present in the memory. He stood there, staring her down, with piercing, reserved eyes. Phobos met them.  
  
“Master Tiin.” 


	19. Wild Heart: The Mind Games

“Now, Agen, where were we before you had your little impulsive reaction?” Ruin began, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the training mat. “Ah, yes, your freedom, your friend and your future.” With a gesture, he summoned a table and a tea set across from the side of the room, all of it perfectly coming into place just in front of him. He beckoned with his other hand to Agen and all of a sudden, the boy could move. In surprise, he stumbled a moment, before immediately spinning round to try the door. No dice, it may as well have been solid wall for all his efforts meant. Ruin gave a sigh, watching him. “Agen, I started seeking you out partly because I was under the impression that you were a clever boy. I am one of the most powerful Force users currently alive. Do you _legitimately think_ you have _any_ chance of leaving without me letting you?”  
  
Casting his look around the room, Agen only scowled. Any exit? At all? No. It was a well-lit, modestly-sized room that was sparsely furnished, but a good deal nicer than the room next door. No way out, though, unless he felt like breaking the window between this room and the other.  
  
“The window is reinforced,” Ruin added, beginning to pour the tea. “Agen, I could _force_ you to sit – pun not intended.” He gave a small chuckle to himself. “But I would rather not. Come on, dear boy – let us be civil here. The sooner you listen to me, the sooner you will have the opportunity to help Stass – which, incidentally, is a _promise._ All I am asking is for you to hear me out.”  
  
It was with gritted teeth that Agen – after taking another look at Stass, through the glass, who was now writhing in her chair, eyes glassy – relented. Shooting a murderous gaze at Ruin, he crossed to the other side of the table and sat. Ruin’s smile widened and he passed a cup to him, which Agen ignored.  
  
“I’m not your enemy, you know,” he began, getting a rather sceptical eyebrow from the boy. “If I had not come to Teth to seek you out, you never would have found Stass again – you would have just remained lost in the streets. _I_ brought you here and am going to provide you the opportunity to help her. You’re welcome.” He ignored Agen’s dagger-glare, taking a sip before continuing. “Now, on to business. The Jedi. How do you feel about them and your place in them?”  
  
“The Jedi are guardians of peace and justice,” replied the boy, without hesitation. “We keep people safe, fight those who prey on the innocent and above all, keep vigil for people like _you.”_ He actually _spat_ the last line, flecks bouncing off of some unseen barrier about a foot from Ruin’s face.  
  
“I see. And what exactly _are_ ‘people like me’? Your tea is getting cold by the way.”  
  
Mutinously, Agen took a sip. It was actually pretty good. Pity the brewer was, well, a Dark Lord of the Sith.  
  
“Those who wear false faces, who seek to corrupt people and turn them to the Dark Side. I already know where this is going.”  
  
“Oh you do, do you?” Ruin gave a raised brow of his own.  
  
“You’re going to use Stass as an example – tell me she’s weighing me down, try and get me to abandon her-”  
  
“I am here to do nothing of the sort,” Ruin sniffed, highly affronted. “You have already made up your mind about me – made presumptions about things you don’t even have the slightest understanding of. No, Agen, I am most certainly _not_ going to ask you to do that. On the contrary, I originally _left_ The Order precisely _because_ I was unwilling to accept a life cut off from others.” Agen could only stare, in shock, his mouth hanging open. “Granted, that was almost two thousand years ago now, so I wouldn’t use it to judge the current Order very much. That said, I _am_ here to talk to you of the virtues of the Dark Side, yes. But first, would you care to answer my question – what do you _think_ about the order? What is your _opinion_ on it? Not the standard run-of-the-mill line of what it does. Are they very good at stopping ‘people like me’?”  
  
“They do well enough.”  
  
“Do they?” Ruin chuckled, nodding his head towards the window. “Certainly not helping Stass, is it? For that matter, _I_ started as a Jedi. As did Revan.” He began counting off on his fingers as he spoke. “Malak, Githany, Exar Kun, Desolous, Zannah – why is it that so many of our most powerful came from your ranks?”  
  
Agen had no answer, only irritably sipping his drink.  


* * *

  
Phobos stepped past Stass to lock eyes with Saesee. She had an idea; a smirk to match. The tableau of Stass's past begun melting away as the pair squared off, the scene as wax in a furnace.  
  
“Darth Phobos,” Saesee began, for once not stooping as he was wont to, but drawing himself fully to his full, though not especially considerable, height. “I would ask you to leave now, leave this world, before you endanger the ceasefire any further.”  
  
She gave a chuckle, while beginning to limber up, eyes aglow.  
  
“I think not. No evidence in the mental realm, after all.”  
  
“Very well.” Saesee gave a small sigh. “Then I shall have to make you.”  
  
Phobos cracked her neck, to either side, stretching her arms as she did.  
  
“Well, shit-tier, could you be so kind as to please hold?” She gave Stass a kick, plunging her through the floor like an ink drop into water, where she sank away from the pair. “The god-tier needs to play now.”  
  
The scene around Phobos and Saesee was practically all liquid now, falling away to reveal a new setting. The Forbidden Court, Aishintu, on the planet Tholoth – where Stass had first been rescued from her mother. An exquisitely grand room, its occupants frozen in place, fine tapestries, paintings, artefacts and sculptures on display all around. Both of them now stood in the centre of the room, on either side of the throne. “Do you like it, Master Tiin? I worked rather hard on the recreation. Not a bad venue for a battle at all.”  
  
Saesee didn’t reply, only silently taking his weapon from his belt.  
  
“Seriously?” Phobos almost laughed at him. “Renowned and legendary master of the mind, in a mental battle through The Force where you could call on literally _any_ mental abstract you can think of as a means of battle… and you choose to imagine a _lightsaber?_ I’m… I’m actually disappointed.” Time to begin. She spread her arms out wide, the ornaments of the room shifting, unfolding and reconfiguring, growing legs and spiky limbs and little fangs. “Me? I’m going to open with a swarm of carnivorous antiques.”  
  
And so it began in a blur, Saesee igniting his blade and moving rapidly, cleaving apart the vermin-like constructs as they jumped at him. He left an amethyst trail in his wake as he cut across the room, robes billowing, to meet her. Their blades locked, Phobos having ignited one end of her sanguine weapon just before he hit. She riposted in an aggressive swipe, skittering away. Suddenly, her blade was gone, the empty hilt spinning in her hand. The reverse end ignited, barely being blocked in time. Then the other end was back, vicious slash after slash. Keep him on his toes. Saesee could barely keep blocking under her aggression, let alone the little automatons of hers that had caught up. He broke off, pushing her back with The Force, buying him enough time to actually attack again. What would he do?  
  
He clashed again, this time, his weapon’s beam coiling by itself around hers. She dropped it as his snake-like blade darted for her hands, her every finger elongating and hardening into cruel claws. He didn’t pursue her himself, though. His lightsaber blade, more like a snake now, did that. It extended after her, chasing her down. As it struck, she bent like she was made of plastic, contorting and deforming her body around it, outpacing it, evading its every turn. She closed this time, dodging the glowing snake and coming up to bring her claws to Saesee himself. He sent her back with a crack of the whip, forcing her to jump away and coil herself round a column.  
  
Quick as a flash, she plunged her hand into the wooden pillar. The floor under Saesee erupted, a giant wooden hand clenching. Hopping back, he was a hair too slow, a large splinter stabbing into his right hand. In pain, he dropped his weapon, the snake dissolving as it the hilt fell.  
  
“I’ll admit,” Phobos called from her perch, “That was a good one.” Her skin was hardening, gaining a brown hue. She sank into the wooden pillar. “What else you got?” The wall behind Saesee folded with a crunch, forming another clawed hand. It threatened to crush him where he stood.  
  
Flames. Heat.  
  
A white-hot explosion burst from him, eating through the hand. With a creak, the Theelin leapt out of the panelling, escaping the blaze. As she landed, a great gust blasted through the gaping hole where a wall used to be, blowing out the inferno. Phobos rid the wind, pirouetting to the other end of the hall. As she stood and looked to where Saesee had been, she saw nothing. Where had he gone?  


* * *

  
Stass was floating, drifting in a sea of images. All her past. All horrendous. They swam around her, images, sounds, feelings… her past laid bare.  
  
What a joke.  
  
She was four, being schooled in garrotting. On vermin. Her small hands were guided with a surprising amount of loving care from her mother, leading her grip to tighten the wire around the helpless creature’s throat. It had flailed and wailed and then it hadn’t. One of the best lessons yet, her mother had whispered warmly in her ear. Unspoken was the fact that ‘best’ in this case meant it was the first time she’d done as instructed and not resisted. Stass could still feel the red-raw marks from the previous lesson, where she’d resisted and paid for it with the tight noose of wire.  
  
She was three, watching Naoru’s interment. The stone sarcophagus sealing the adorned cadaver, embalmed to perfection and given the full ceremonies. Mother had spent the whole funeral standing behind Stass, hands on her shoulder. Tears silently dripping. As she was led out of the crypt, Rika approached.  
  
“Aeris, delegation arrives at three – are you able? Or should I send them away?” There was more than a little concern in the retainer’s usually stoic face.  
  
“No, no. I can manage,” Aeris assured her, “grief… is the enemy. I am needed. The audience awaits; the player must be flawless.” With visible strain, her visage stiffened, moulding and reworking. After substantially longer than normal, it had taken on an immaculate mask. A porcelain doll. “A deep crimson theme, today, I think.” The colour of mourning.  
  
Stass was five. Rika was staring down at her in shock. Ugly scars, bruises and what even looked to be an old burn seared across Stass’s exposed torso. Sickening blotches of red, blue, purple and green of all the differently aged injuries. A bitter and vicious account of her daily life as a child of Aeris Allie. Rika’s hand found her mouth as her eyes took it all in. Stass squirmed as she did so, like a worm in the dirt, shying away from the light and the gazing at her wretched secret. Finally, as Rika fully processed what she was looking at, she filled her lungs and _roared._  
  
 ** _“MEDIC! GET ME A MEDIC IN HERE!”_**  
  
Four again. Camouflage training. She was in a tree, trying her best to blend in and _praying_ her mother did not find her. That always brought punishment and pain. Maybe she’d be lucky this time? Maybe, just maybe she wouldn’t be found. The forest was quiet – it was possible mother had gone to an entirely different area to search. She at least thought she’d chosen rather cleverly in where to hide. It had been an hour now and no sign nor sound of-  
  
Her thoughts were yanked away as she was out of the tree. Aeris deposited her unceremoniously to the leafy floor with a sigh.  
  
“Oh Stass, why do you have to disappoint me like this? It hurts me so.”  
  
Pain endurance followed, naturally, as it always did for failure of an exercise. It had always been a very insistent rule. More memories overtook this one, washing one after the other like waves, every dark little day under her mother’s thumb. When would this end?  
  
“Lurking down here, Stass?”  
  
She looked up. She was in her bedroom back on The Ouran. Or at least what looked like it, though less… fresh. Before her swam a rather ghostly image of Master Tiin. Or more accurately, his face sporting a warm, small little smile.  
  
“Not like I have much choice,” she replied from her curled up position. The room had a stuffy, sweltering warmth to it; she could feel the sweat running down her forehead. Festering, almost blinding beams of sunlight poured through the window, throwing the ill-kept, fetid chamber into sharp focus, wilting every nook and musty cranny under it. She herself clung to the least-lit corner of the room, shying away from the burning rays.  
  
“I think not.” Master Tiin’s spectral head swam in the room’s miasma, coughing a few times, the pungent creeping decay beginning to have an effect on him. “Phobos is… distracted, but only barely. I won't be able to stay for long. Just… please listen – it’s not her anymore. This is _you.”_  
  
“Yeah. And?” Stass grunted more than spoke.  
  
“And I think you should take some stock. Have a look around. Set yourself in order.”  
  
She gave a bitter laugh, hacking up violent chokes of mucus as she did.  
  
“Right. Me, sort my head out – good joke.” Her whole face fell in an instant. “Just leave me here. Go, stop Phobos, find Agen. I’m useless to you anyways.”  
  
To her surprise, he only grinned again.  
  
“Oh really? I think you might be underestimating yourself a little. Have a look around – explore and feel. Remember. Or at the very least, open a window or get out of this heat.” Even as he spoke, his blurry image was getting fainter, almost dissolving into the haze. “I _really_ have to go now. The door is unlocked – you only need to open it! You’re in your hands now-”  
  
And like that, he was gone. Vapour on a non-existent breeze.  
  
Stass gave a groan, leaning against the cool wall and trying not to wilt under the temperature. Why the kriff would he believe in _her?_ More beads of rank perspiration trickled down her, the harsh sunlight creeping more and more into the room. At this rate, she would poach like an egg.  
  
She wasn’t sure how, but she somehow mustered the strength to wrench herself onto all fours. Not much, but a start. She wasn’t going to give in now. Master Tiin couldn’t help her. Adi couldn’t help her. Agen certainly couldn’t. K’Kruhk, Bultar, Coleman, Xiaan, A’Sharad, _nobody_ was going to pull her out of this. Except her. She’d probably lose her mind trying, but she was at least going kicking and screaming… or crawling and choking, as the case may be.  
  
Her nails dug into the carpet. It was filthy, caked in matted, greasy hair and dust. She held on regardless and used the grip to pull herself forward. Her other hand followed. Then back to the right. Left. Right. She kept at it, hauling herself to the door. Leaning against it, she rested for a moment, before wriggling a finger up to press the button.  
  
It darted open like a bullet, letting in a breeze, a draught, a veritable _gale_ of cool, clear, fresh _air._ Stass just sat there bathing in the feeling, cleansing. In a second, she was much better. Not nearly 100%, but getting there. Shakily standing up, she left the mouldered bedroom behind her without a backward glance, stepping forward and into dark, refreshing shade. Shelter. But what now? The passage before her was lined with doors. Normally, these would be other Padawans’ cabins, but somehow, she doubted they’d be so straightforward in this place.  
  
Tentatively, she rested her fingers on the panel of what should be Agen’s, opposite hers.  
  
It opened at her command, to reveal a curious scene. Simple, in and of itself – her and Agen on a bench in the Room Of A Thousand Fountains, heads together, reading one of Agen’s books. It had had a good story, but the art was all over the place, prompting her to mock it. He’d agreed and they’d spent the entire afternoon picking out the very worst breakdowns of artistic merit they could find in it and riffing the absolute shit out of them. He’d _then_ leant her another book with what was hands down the most stunning art she’d ever seen. It was a fond memory.  
  
Stass quietly shut the door, leaning a head against it. Letting a long breath out, she turned to the next door. Bultar.  
  
Inside was another diorama – their youngling Gathering. The expedition to Ilum all younglings took to gain lightsaber crystals. Little twelve-year-old Stass ambling through the caves of ice in search of her crystal. She was broken from her search by a flurry of snow dropping onto her head. Looking up, she saw, of all people, Bultar Swan, then largely unknown to her… hanging upside down having somehow gotten both her feet stuck in a ceiling crevice. To this day, Stass still had no idea how she’d managed it, but regardless, Stass’s chosen method of help was inelegant but effective. Using The Force, she’d reached out and pulled each foot free, dropping Bultar in a crumpled heap into snow. It had broken both Bultar’s ankles, but again, Stass had a solution for her solution… even if the last one had broken a pair of ankles. Her healing.  
  
That had been a fun day, Bultar eventually feeling well enough to start a snowball fight. Letting out a chuckle, Stass shut the door.  
  
The third door along should have belonged to Padawan Bant Eerin, who she only sort of knew. Here, however, it was labelled Coleman Kcaj. Her Master.  
  
Beyond it lay her room back on Coruscant… about… four or five years ago, maybe? A younger Stass sat on the bed looking defeated, shoulders slumped, head drooped. Coleman was sitting beside her and one of Agen’s magazines rested between them. It was not like the previous ones she’d seen and been shown by him. Coleman was speaking.  
  
“… and what makes you think he’s _only_ -”  
  
“I looked,” she cut across him, “They were _all_ like this.”  
  
Coleman only gave a small sigh in reply.  
  
“Figures,” she continued, “should have known. Shouldn’t have been so dumb.”  
  
“It is unfortunate for you, yes. But Agen is as he is and there is no changing that. It’s not like he’s not your friend, after all.”  
  
“Y-yeah… I’d just hoped-” She didn’t finish, eyes glistening.  
  
“Perfectly natural, Stass. Nothing to be ashamed of in the slightest.” One of his gangly arms tugged her against him, gently. His bony hand rubbed up and down soothingly. “I know it’s hard, but it’ll pass. You’re bonded. Not in the way you might wish, but it is valuable and really quite beautiful. Now, shall we go and talk to Agen about this? He deserves your honesty, I think.”  
  
It was through smiling tears that the real Stass shut the door, not bothering to dry her eyes. It never stopped being funny to her just how much that memory brought both sadness and joy at once. There were more doors, but she didn’t think she really needed them and time was probably a factor.  
  
“Okay…” she called out, looking around for something different. “I get it. I get it. I get the point. Now, how do I get outta here?” There was no answer. Evidently Master Tiin was still occupied. Probably fair since he was fending off one of the most dangerous people in the known universe on her home turf. Her eye, nevertheless, found an odd blue glow at the end of the hall.  
  
Wasting no time, she stepped into the room it emanated from. The light was coming from words, etched into the forehead of a bust of Master Tiin. She read them and couldn’t help but give a small smirk.  
  
“Good advice. Well then, let’s go.” She held up both palms, a matching blue aura forming – her healing. She felt the soft, breezy soothing as she placed her fingers to each temple. Immediately, a windstorm burst through the wall, tearing it apart, plucking tiles free and eroding them to dust.  Carried on the howl was the soft voice of Master Tiin, repeating the words he’d left carved for her:

  
“Physician… _heal thyself.”_

  
It savaged the scene, tugging, yanking, sanding everything away, leaving her, to her total lack of surprise, in the Allie estate courtyard on Tholoth. The gust abated. Sunlight bathed the lovely enclosed garden, warm but not stifling thanks to the gentle breeze that remained. And opposite her was her final obstacle.  
  
Aeris Allie. Mother.  
  
Between them was Stass’s lightsaber, resting on a traditional stand. Aeris smiled at her, then spoke.  
  
“Oh, my special little girl. Look how you’ve grown. But you won’t do it. You wouldn’t kill your mother. Such a good, obedient child.” Her confident, loving face – the face that had haunted her – was now an obstacle for Stass. An opponent she needed to best.  
  
“Y-you’re wrong!” It was a more of fumbled shout than anything. Not much punch to it.  
  
“I am? You don’t sound too convincing, dear. Come on – stay here with me. We could be so happy.”  
  
Stass took a breath, then said it again, with actual conviction. It wasn’t actually that hard.  
  
“You. Are. Wrong. You’re _dead._ You died years ago. I was you- your puppet, your personal little doll for you to terrorise and control. You’ve haunted me all my life, but that’s all you are! You’re a ghost. I have friends. I have family, a future and my own life. And it’s my choice, not yours.”  
  
Aeris’s face faltered at that.  
  
“Stass… Stass, you can’t _mean_ that. You’re my angel! My perfect little girl, my-”  
  
 **“No.”** Stass cut across her with finality, meeting her eyes with a dagger stare. “I’m not yours, I’m not some shitty little doll **AND I SURE AS FUCK AIN’T AN ANGEL!”** The shouting, the long speech, the ability to just, just _silence_ this evil bitch… it was empowering. She’d never felt anything even remotely this therapeutic or damn euphoric. **“I’M NOT SOME HELPLESS KID WHO’LL JUST ROLL OVER AND LET YOU RULE ME ANYMORE!”**  
  
Her weapon hilt rattled, shooting from the stand to her waiting hand. Speechless, Aeris’s eyes were wide, her elegant, perfect jaw slack. But her daughter wasn’t even close to done.  
  
“I am a Jedi.” Stass snarled, “You are a monster.” The emerald blade burst into life with a familiar, radiant hum. “And you’re in my _way!”_  
  
In a single, precision strike, an eighteen-year-old Tholothian victim became her own hero. She flew forward, closing the distance. She buried her weapon to the hilt. Right on target, into the gut.  


* * *

  
Darth Phobos prowled the scene, flitting between the frozen inhabitants of the Forbidden Court, reaching out with her senses to search for the elusive Master Tiin. So many ways to hide in the mental realm. Where could he be?  
  
In the walls? The floor? Had he vaporised into a cloud, perhaps? Maybe dove into a painting? Regardless, she would find him soon. Sooner or later her senses would pick him up. But first, a probe.  
  
“You cannot hide forever,” she softly said as she weaved between two rather obese nobles paused in the act of taking a tea ceremony. The tea was, like everything else, frozen mid-pour. A static stream of beige. Could he be in the tea, perhaps? No, nothing that she sensed.  
  
“But if I did, it would be less exciting,” came his voice rattling out from nowhere in particular.  
  
“This would all be smoother if you surrendered now. Retreat your investigation and everything stops. I get the R&D department their favour and you get four Jedi who aren’t completely worthless. It’s a good deal, no?”  
  
“It would, if you hadn’t already lost.~” That was amusement in his voice. Phobos’s eyes narrowed.  
  
“Oh really? Are you sure we are playing the same game?”  
  
A soft chuckle. His smooth, soft, permanently calm voice was strangely unsettling to her.  
  
“Oh, Dark Lord, I am fully _aware_ we are not playing the same game. In fact, I am counting on it.”  
  
Phobos stopped between a heated argument of some sort, the topic and result lost to the past forever. Something was wrong. If he wasn’t playing her game… could it be that she couldn’t sense him because he wasn’t all here? And if he wasn’t all here, that meant he could return anywh-  
  
A twinge of movement. One of the statuesque arguers… wasn’t. Then Master Tiin burst out of the false skin, arms grappling her. _What in the actual fuck was he doing?_  
  
Any counterattack she might have conceived of was cut short by the floor exploding. Purple filled her vision. Then pain, her mind. A lightsaber blade erupted from her stomach, impaling them both. The wall beside them burst open to admit a yellow blade that dug into her side. From the ceiling, a blue blade. Green from another wall. Red. Pink. Orange, brown, blue again, black, silver, white, green – a rainbow pierced them on all sides.  
  
Gritting her teeth, she hissed through the pure red-hot pain. Not enough to kill either at their powers, but a devastatingly effective holding move. Never something she’d ever try – far too self-sacrificial. His plan was clear now; someone else would strike while she was helpless. And she could do nothing.  
  
Phobos closed her eyes.  
  
It struck.  


* * *

  
The vibrant emerald of Stass Allie’s weapon stabbed into her back in the real, physical realm. The mental realm folded, plunging them all back to reality. Saesee to Adi’s bed and the other two to the bunker. Stass’s head spun as the image of her mother collapsed to reveal Phobos.  
  
The Dark Lord collapsed in a heap. It wasn’t a kill-blow, unfortunately. The Sith scrambled away to the opposite wall in blind panic. But she had a smoking injury all the way through her lower torso. Trembling with shock at what she’d done, Stass kept her weapon at the ready. The communicator. It was just lying there on the table where Phobos had left it. Stass snatched it up.  
  
“Don’t move!” She called across to Phobos, “Or I’ll broadcast your location across the galaxy.”  
  
Gasping, with one hand clamped over her abdomen, Phobos stared.  
  
“The truce.”  
  
“Yes,” Stass replied with a smile. “The truce. If you don’t get the fuck out of here right now, you can kiss that goodbye. How’s that figure into your plans?”  
  
The Theelin only stared longer. In fact, she gaped. It was a long, strange stand-off. But finally…  
  
“Well played, ki- Stass. Well played indeed.” Phobos grunted as she rose to her feet. “Very well then. I’ll do us both a favour…” In a second, she faded from view, as if she had evaporated. “And just disappear. Take care.”  
  
And then she was gone. All trace of her. No sound, no sight, no sense in The Force.  
  
A moment later, the door that was the entrance burst open, Coleman skidding to a halt through it and kicking up fragments of permacrete. He also appeared to be carrying Norcuna.  
  
“StassMasterTiinfilledmeinwithtelepathywhere’sPhobos?”  
  
Stass had to give Coleman’s rushed sentence a thinking over before replying, slightly dazed.  
  
“She’s… gone.”  
  
“Gone?”  
  
“Evidently so,” came a voice from the side. It was Ruin, standing in front of the open door. Immediately, Coleman dropped Norcuna and drew his lightwhip, a coil of silver cracking into life. Norcuna readied beside him, his curved hilt at the ready, orange blade ignited.  
  
“Stass.” Norcuna said curtly, fully serious. “When I say the word, run. He’ll likely kill me, but you and Coleman could still get away.”  
  
“How noble. How quaint,” Ruin said, his dark eyes cold with hatred at Norcuna. He plucked a hilt from his belt, a pink blade humming to life. The man took a classic Form V stance. “Always the same with your self-righteous hubris. I will crush you, erode you and your foundations, sully your very name so that none would ever think to describe you with reverence. I will topple your tallest towers, despoil your most treasured memorials. I bring only ruin to your way of life.”  
  
The blade extinguished.  
  
“But not today. You may have your apprentice back, Master Norcuna.” He bowed to the Twi’Lek. “For as long as you can keep him.” He then addressed the other two, with a friendly smile. “Stass, Coleman. So young, so salvageable. Consider yourselves to have an open invitation to meet me at any time.” And with that, he strode out the door.  
  
Hardly able to believe their luck, Stass and Norcuna almost collided in their haste to get through the door. Agen seemed physically fine, sitting on the training mat and looking rather confused.  
  
It was only when Stass had given him a clean bill of health that she finally asked the question.  
  
“Is… is it over?”  
  
“Yes,” Agen replied, letting out a long breath. “Yes, I think it is.”  
  
And then he yanked her into more of a deathgrip than a hug.  
  
“But for the love of The Force, please stop giving me reasons to have a heart attack.”  


* * *

  
[Kohlma was a sad little moon.](https://www.extrememusic.com/albums/2453?item=41458&ver=88955) Sombre and mournful almost by its nature, with its many graves and murals and monuments to the dead, the remembered fallen of countless conflicts. The heavy rain currently washing down contributed to it, too. Not windy or stormy, just _raining._ The destination of the three was one of many elderly, decrepit citadels that dotted the lush, forested mountains. This one, however, had lights glittering out of it – bright blue from the glass.  
  
The three began striding across the bridge, towards the entrance, which was shut up tight – great fortified gates framed with wall turrets that swivelled to train on each of them as they approached. Three men.  
  
One in the middle wearing the robes of the Jedi order with a hood drawn up in vain effort to keep the rain off. One to the right in fine, smart attire, with a curved, guarded hilt at his belt and a cloak – and again, with a hood to make the token attempt to stay dry. And one clad from head to toe in Mandalorian armour, raindrops dinging off, a pair of pistols clearly holstered on each thigh – a rocket-tipped jetpack mounted on his back.  
  
The three came to a halt in front of the thick, tall double doors, waiting. In a moment, there was a creaking clank as they swung open, only a little, to emit two people, both armed, clothed in loose hooded cloaks and with glowing, red eyes. The gate closed behind them. Words were exchanged – lost in the sound of the downpour to all but the five. The guards did _not_ seem to like what the man in the Jedi robes was saying, nor the noble. The armoured one remained silent. The conversation deteriorated rather quickly, the guards levelling weapons.  
  
A green blade ignited from the Jedi’s sleeve, followed by a sanguine one from under the count’s cloak.  
  
“If you attack us, we may be forced to kill you.” The Jedi warned one final time. He really didn’t want to fight.  
  
But it was to no avail. The first raised his weapon. He never got to fire, a smoking hole in the face administered by the gunslinger, quick on the draw. The other got a shot off, only to find it immediately returned into her knee. Striding past the pair of beaten guards, the Jedi redirected more shots from the turrets, destroying them in but a moment. He continued to the entrance, reaching out a hand, griping the air, using the Force to wrench the doors slowly apart. Over forty-two thousand credits worth of high quality reinforcement was beaten in mere seconds, opening the way into the entrance hall.  
  
As his companions followed him, the survivor lashed out, a vibroknife dropping into her palm. Her counterattack was cut short by the count’s blade gliding through her torso. A nearly-flawless execution of a classic Makashi opening slash. The carcass hit the surface of the bridge with a thud.  
  
The three entered the citadel, the Jedi and count lowering their hoods. Their way was blocked by some two-dozen guards, and mixed into their number were a few wearing skull masks. Bando Gora Assassins: a cult of death-worshiping murderers, here to defend their mistress.  
  
“Jango,” Jedi Master Sifo-Dyas said, tilting his head sideways to speak to the Mandalorian. “Minimal casualties, please.” Fett nodded, drawing both blasters as the Jedi raised their own weapons.  
  
“As possible.”  
  
Kohlma was a graveyard moon, teeming with the dead. Tonight would not even make a significant contribution to the tally.


End file.
